Switching the Blame

BY : Lyraeon
Category: Pokemon > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 7262
Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon and definitely am making no money from this.

“It's still your fault, you know.”

Brendan slammed his fist against the log he was sitting on, instantly regretting it when pain seared through his wrist.

“What about how that competition went makes you say us *both* losing is *my* fault?” he spat, glaring at the girl sitting across the fire from him.

At 15, May Birch and Brendan Ruby were two of the biggest names in Coordinating; there were certainly still a few people above them worldwide, but no one in their age range, which made them something of teen idols. It also meant they participated in a few other activities that weren't actually Contests, but went down the same vein, including some acting, general media courting, and today's fiasco, a pokemon fashion show.

“Because your shitty sewing job fell apart, that's why! We would have been fine if you had put things together right.”

“My sewing? That's what you think made your Zangoose's dress tear? Check it again, that wasn't even on the seam. That was all on the crappy material *you* bought, May.”

It wasn't uncommon for the two to fight, despite having been more-or-less friends for a few years, and despite the fact that, as far as the paparazzi knew, they were dating. In fact, it was far more uncommon for them to not fight for any period of time, and the chances of an argument skyrocketed whenever May was hungry, Brendan was tired, or at least one of them had lost their most recent venture. Since it had been several months since either one had entered something without the other in tow (or indeed, gone very far without them around), the last part was a constant factor.

Tonight, all three ingredients were out in full force, especially since neither one had won the day's prize, and the only thing that was going to be fixed any time soon was May's hunger issues, as dinner was simmering over the fire.

“Well maybe if we won anything worth money once in a while, I'd be able to buy us some better fabric.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, what was that? I can't hear you over the sound of you wasting every cent of your Grand Festival winnings.” By now he was standing up, shouting at her loud enough that every bird pokemon in the area had scattered, and even the river by their camp seemed to go quiet.

May jumped to her feet to fight back. “Yeah, that's right, I did have that money, because I beat YOU,” she laughed, knuckles on her hips. “And then I was nice enough to take you out to dinner and everything. But I guess that money could have made the difference between fabric today, huh? So that I could have bought something that made up for your rush sew job.”

“If yours was a rush job, then what was mine?!” He'd done the work on her designs first as a show of goodwill over her buying the material for them both.

“I don't know, but at least it looked better than your stupid hat.”

There was a moment of silence as Brendan's eyes went wide, his face barely a foot from hers as he boiled with rage.

“My hat?! My hat is AWESOME!” he roared in her face, swinging his foot hard to the side, expecting to hit the log she'd been sitting on.

Instead, his boot found her sleeping bag, and while the two continued to snarl at each other, it sailed several feet, skipped a few more, and then began rolling down the embankment toward the river below.

Again, everything was quiet, except that this time the river seemed to be giggling with glee at the revenge it was soon to have; it'd teach those silly humans to interrupt its peace and quiet. Brendan's head snapped to the side, panic setting in as he realized what the bedroll's fate was about to be, and he pushed May out of his way, dashing after it. He was mad at her, but not that-

Ker-PLUNK

mad.

“Brendan, you ASS. What the FUCK?!” May screeched as she watched her sleeping bag fall into the river.

“I didn't-” he started, but was cut off by the elbow suddenly in his chest as May pushed past him this time, half-slugging him out of rage.

“Well clearly you did, jackass.” She stormed her way down to the river, leaning out onto a rock and picking up her sleeping bag with relative ease, despite the fact the water had easily tripled its weight. “You're just damn lucky the river didn't wash it away.”

Brendan winced. He did feel kind of like an ass, even though it had been an accident. “Here... let me take it, I'll-”

“So you can set it on fire this time? Or maybe just bury it? This isn't summer Brendan, I'll be rather cold without a sleeping bag.”

Okay, he didn't feel like an ass anymore. She deserved this. He growled and snatched it from her hands, unrolling it and marching toward the nearest tree. “For your information, I was going to hang it up for you, to help it dry. And you're not going to freeze. It's spring, and besides, you can sleep under all that crappy fabric of yours. I've got it somewhere in my bag.”

“YOU can sleep under it,” she snapped, stealing back her sleeping bag and tossing it over the branch herself. “I'll be taking *yours*. Since this is your fault and all.”

Brendan gritted his teeth, trying very hard not to start another round of argument with her, flexing his fists as he resisted the urge to smack her. It was his fault that her sleeping bag had gotten soaked, and lending her his as a result was the gentlemanly thing to do. Not that she was the sort of lady who deserved that kind of consideration, but, he wasn't going to freeze outside either.

He decided to find some more firewood, just in case.

Three hours later, it was dark aside from what glow the fire still had, and spring had decided to bring them a stiff breeze to remind them both it wasn't summer yet.

“You think it's going to snow?” Brendan sighed from beneath the pile of scrap fabric. Fortunately for him, May's ground mat hadn't gone into the river too, so he had something better than leaves to sleep on top of, but he was seriously wishing he owned an Arcanine. Even his Torkoal was starting to sound like a better option.

“You think you'll shut up soon so I can sleep?” May burrowed herself deeper into Brendan's sleeping bag, pulling the edge over her ears to block him out. It was just cold enough that she was starting to have a little sympathy for the pansy, and she wanted to sleep before she got any more.

Brendan tugged at the edge of his hat, toying with how far over his face it would go. Maybe if he covered his nose with it, he'd be a little warmer. “Did I piss off a Suicune at some point?” he mumbled, pulling the hat back up. He couldn't breathe like that.

“You're pissing me off, so I'm sure you could've pissed him off at some point too.”

He sat up and threw another log onto the fire, which took a good minute to even start to catch. “How close do you think I can get to the fire before the fabric catches on fire?”

May groaned, pulling the sleeping bag completely over her head. “But if it's on fire, then you'll be warm finally.”

He flopped back over and tried to arrange the fabric over his torso again, managing to wish for more pieces in silence. It was clear if he opened his mouth again, he'd be knocked out too quickly to have to worry about falling asleep anymore, so he just laid there instead. And sighed.

About the third time that he sighed, May let out a long, low sound that wanted to be a growl but managed to escape with enough of her anger to keep her calm. “Oh good god Brendan. Stop your bitching already.”

He blinked, then sighed again. “I didn't *say* anything.”

“You didn't have to. I can hear you *thinking* about whining, you're so pathetic.” Brendan didn't reply, though he did shift a little in his makeshift bag, and May fumed again. “No pouting, either!”

“You're not even looking at me, how can you-”

“I just know, Brendan. You're that obvious. Just... ugh, just get over here. Yes, it's probably going to snow, and I know you'll just be even whinier if you lose something to frost bite, so get over here.”

Brendan didn't move for a moment, too confused to even respond, before he finally managed a “huh?”

“I'm telling you that you can use your fucking sleeping bag. Too. It's big enough for us both, and I know you're too much of a pussy to do anything funny.”

He knew that was meant to be an insult, but also recognized it as May-speak for “I trust you that far at least”. And as half an apology.

He shrugged his way out of the pile of fabric, then shuffled the few feet to where May was laying. “You're serious?”

It was her turn to sigh heavily as she unzipped the sleeping bag. “Yes, I'm serious. If you freeze to death – which you wouldn't out here, by the way – then I'll have no one to sew anything for me. Plus I figure this is the only way I'm going to be allowed any sleep tonight.”

In the low light of the fire, Brendan stared down at May and his open sleeping bag, and something inside of him seemed to tighten, his heart skipping a beat. She was wearing the same loose tanktop and shorts she always wore to bed, but there was something about the way her clothes and hair were already disheveled, and how she was slightly sprawled against the deep red of his sleeping bag, that made his face hot. Swallowing whatever thoughts had tried to surface before she had a chance to change her mind, he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jacket. “Um... where should I-”

“Behind me. I don't need a face full of your stupid hat all night.”

He nodded, kneeling first, then carefully laying down behind her, tucking his feet into the closed end of the bag. For a moment he struggled with where to put his arms, which May tolerated with a low growl, until he settled on letting his bottom arm be curled (a little uncomfortably) upward under his head, his top arm laying carefully along his side, careful not to touch her at all.

May reached down again – pushing her rear straight into Brendan's thighs from the angle, causing him to suck in a hard breath – and pulled up the zipper carefully, having to press her body back into his in order to close it at the broader parts of their bodies. “... I take back what I said about there being enough room for both of us,” she grumbled once the zipper was to the top again, finding that the bag was now too tight for her to cross her arms over her chest and still breathe comfortably.

“At least we'll be warm?” Brendan offered, and was answered with a heel to the shins.

“You should be pretending you're not there back there. It's awkward enough that I can feel you breathing without having to know it's you.”

He frowned, but kept his mouth shut, closing his eyes and hoping for quick sleep. May's taunting seemed harsher than usual tonight, but he figured it was just that losing at the fashion show had been hard on them both, and that she probably resented not only having her stuff soaked but having to share a sleeping bag as a result. He wasn't sure he could blame her, but it also wasn't like she was allergic to him by any means. They hugged all the time, and had even kissed before, though he supposed that was different, since all of that was just an act.

For several months they'd been pretending to be a couple whenever there were cameras around, ever since they'd faced off at the previous year's Grand Festival. She'd been the one who'd taken home the trophy, but he'd taken the headlines when the tabloids released photos from before the final match, of him holding her hand and fixing her hair: “Finals Thrown in the Name of Love?!” The hand holding had been taken completely out of context, as it'd been him handing her a hair pin she'd forgotten, and it was common knowledge in the Coordinating community that Brendan did all the costumes, hair, and makeup for them both since a few months before that, as well as for a few other paying customers. But the fans ate it up, and the two had agreed to add a “relationship” to their act, more or less as a publicity stunt.

Now was one of the times he had to remind himself that it was only a publicity stunt, just an act, one big lie. Nevermind how often he thought about how much prettier May got with every passing contest, or the fact a single flash of her grin made him smile – when they weren't fighting, at least. Definitely nevermind the fact that he felt like he was walking on air each time she kissed his cheek, let alone his lips, for a photo opp. By now, Brendan secretly wished for the same endless lines of cameras he'd hated a year before, just because it meant she'd take his hand, smile, and wave as they walked by.

May was right. He was “such a woman”, stuck with a hopeless romantic thought that one of these days, she'd turn around and kiss him and there wouldn't be a camera behind her, it'd just be them and she'd actually mean it. For now, he settled for editing the cameras out in his mind while he was alone, then adding the rest of the story, where her lips would open against his, and soon they'd be making love atop the bolts of fabric he had picked out for her next outfit-

He froze as he snapped himself out of his fantasy, suddenly remembering where he was and that as appealing as May's form pressed against him was, this was far from the time to be fantasizing, unless he wanted to be back out in the cold. In a way, it was already far too late; he could feel the way his pants seemed to be trapping him, along with how hot it suddenly seemed to be within the sleeping bag... He was already hard, and thanks to the way she was curled against him, pressed right against May's spine, her ass still against his thighs. And from the way she had just shifted and grunted uncomfortably, she was starting to notice.

Brendan did the only thing he could think to – he closed his eyes and pretended to already be asleep, quiet fake snore and all.

“Brendan,” she hissed a moment later. “What the hell are you doing back there?”

He couldn't help but tense at the malice in her voice, expecting an elbow to the ribs, but willed himself not to move anyway, trying to keep up the act.

May felt a blush form across her face as she shifted again, and the lump against her back was still there. Brendan was already asleep, and now he had a boner; sleeping in the same bag as him was officially one of the worst ideas she had ever had. At least, she had to assume that's what she was feeling, as it was in about the right place and only made sense. She had just one other occasion to go off of, a time where he'd convinced her to strip to her underwear to be measured, and had felt the same pressure against her back when he had stood behind her and wrapped the tape around her chest. At the time he'd been quite flustered, and had assured her it'd just been his spare measuring tape, but she'd held onto her suspicions and refused to ever be that naked around him again.

Except now she practically was, and she was voluntarily spooning with him to boot.

“Brendan!” she said again, more urgently. She didn't care if he was finally asleep, he was fixing this problem even if it meant going back to sleep under the scraps again. She growled and finally slammed her elbow into his rib cage, snapping him to consciousness and causing him to jerk.

“Owwww! What the HELL May?!”

“What the hell yourself! Pervert!”

He felt himself blushing at the accusation, but she couldn't see him and so for the moment, he tried to play innocent. “What? I'm just trying to sleep back here.”

“Yes, well, sleeping you's trying to do a lot more than that apparently. Calm... that down before I change my mind about you sleeping here.”

Brendan whined a little, shifting in an attempt to hide his problem from her. “But it's cold out there, and I'm not doing it on purpose.”

“I can't sleep like this!”

“And I can't sleep out there! I'm trying, okay? It's just not that easy.”

“Creep,” May growled, arching her back to try and get more space between herself and Brendan, even though she already couldn't feel anything anymore. “We're never doing this again.”

For a minute they both laid in silence, May chewing her cheek in irritation, Brendan trying his best to keep his mind completely clean despite the fact he was now acutely aware of the scent of her shampoo in his face. It would be so easy; he could just hug her right then, hold her close, kiss her neck, tell her everything that had been on his mind, and-

He needed to change his thoughts and fast, or she'd be yelling again.

“...Sorry,” he whispered, and she stiffened against his chest. “I'm sorry,” he repeated, slightly louder but still just a breath.

“...It's not that big a deal,” she answered, tightening her arms a little. “I don't care that much, I just can't have you going pervy on me... Not with us traveling together.”

“No... not for that.” He sighed, letting his forehead lean to the back of her head. “I've been a jerk today. And I never said sorry about knocking your sleeping bag into the river.”

She was quiet for a moment, before she huffed a big sigh and closed her eyes again. “Go to sleep, Brendan.”

“Yeah, I... I will. Just... sorry for that. And sorry we didn't win.”

May took another deep breath, her hands dropping from her shoulders as she seemed to relax a little, though he could feel some annoyance from her still.

When he felt her elbow in his side again a moment later, he wondered what he'd done wrong to deserve it this time, until he realized that *all* of her was shifting. She was rolling over inside the sleeping bag, with more than a little difficulty, to face him. Brendan held his breath as he found her face oddly close to his, the kind of distance he was only used to with the media around, and chose to focus his gaze on the center of her forehead, avoiding her eyes or lips entirely.

“Don't take this wrong now. I'm turning back around in a minute... I just couldn't believe you were apologizing like this so I wanted to be sure you weren't just saying it in your sleep.”

“What?” He tried to sound as confused as he was, but since most of the confusion was coming from her breasts being unusually squishy against his chest, it came out rather fakely.

“Ugh... I'm saying I wasn't sure you meant that. You don't apologize unless you want something, after all.”

“...Does not wanting to feel guilty about putting you in this position count?”

May actually laughed at that, and Brendan froze as he felt her top arm slip around him in a friendly hug. “Oh boy. You must be tired now, to be saying things like that. Look... stop worrying about it. You did it, that's that. I know you didn't mean it. Hell, I probably would've punched you if you'd said my bandana was stupid.” Brendan chuckled once, finally letting himself look her square in the face.

“It's not, by the way,” he grinned.

“Damn right it's not!” she responded, giving a quick, firm nod. “But... your hat isn't, either. It's weird, but it's not stupid.”

Brendan groaned, shaking his head, causing May to laugh again... which in turn cased her breasts to slide against his chest a little. Instantly, his friend and problem was back, and he winced, not sure how to hide it now that May was practically pressed stomach to stomach with him. She felt when he tensed his stomach, as he drew back, and she frowned, letting her arm slip away from him.

For one brief second, May's hand was resting against the side of his chest and Brendan's erection was crying for attention positioned exactly between her legs. In that second, before she would inevitably freak out, their eyes met and both found themselves inhaling unexpectedly, a slight shiver going through May.

Brendan's arm twitched, the unconscious urge to hold her setting in just from their proximity. He felt May's hand press a little more firmly to his side, and tried to breathe deeper still, but there was no room; his lungs were already filled, and anyway, the sleeping bag was too tight around their chests.

“...I'm sorry, too,” May whispered in a voice she didn't recognize. She could feel his heat pressed against her from head to toe, could feel the uncomfortable way her pajamas were tangled around her from her turning over, the cold of the wind across her exposed ear, and, where her fingers were splayed against his ribs, she could feel Brendan's heartbeat. “I'm sorry I always gotta be such a bitch about things...”

Brendan's hand sprung from its resting place on his hip to grasp May's shoulder, the hand pinned beneath him sliding to cup her cheek, and he pulled her closer in that motion, pressing his lips to those he'd been unable to stop staring at for the past four minutes. He shivered out a long sigh of relief as he felt the warmth of her lips against his, head twisting slightly to feel out the kiss, taking in even the way the icy nub of her nose rubbed across his cheek.

May gasped, hand jerking slightly back from his chest as their lips collided, then pressing back to him as she urged herself to push him away.

But he was there, with her, holding her, kissing her even, and he *meant* it, it wasn't just some act he was putting on for the paparazzi, and the relief that brought her kept her from shoving him away. Instead, somewhere in that moment, she found her lips sliding across his in return, parting slightly to fit with his better. There was something there, something more than just the spontaneity, and it made her heart pound just from the softness of his lips against hers.

This wasn't like any of the kisses they'd shared before; not as children playing house or as idols doing the same. There was genuine passion behind Brendan's movements as he coaxed her lips open, his fingers sliding slowly into her hair and holding her to the kiss.

May sighed again, this time with a quiet note of contentment, her own fingers wrapping into his shirt at his back. Her tongue snuck out of her mouth, tasting his lips, carefully at first, then eagerly as his tongue came to meet hers. For a few breathless minutes, they explored each others' faces with their hands and mouths with their tongues, locked into a slow but fierce dance. Each of them tried to lead the other, but each time their motions fell perfectly in sync, leaving no defined start or finish; their instincts were too well timed with one another.

They pulled back just far enough to find full breaths, Brendan searching out the inches of her cheek and jaw for tender kisses as he tried to catch up with everything going on inside him. “May,” he whispered against her ear, and her answer was a soft whimper and a hand clutched on his collar. “May,” he repeated, voice stronger as he kissed her temple. “It's never been just for the cameras. I've always meant every word. I-”

His confession was cut off as her lips sealed across his again, sucking roughly at his lower lip and then settling back between them with a slow moan. Their bodies had settled against each other, arms wrapped carefully, fingers splayed through hair and against shoulders, and Brendan's slight height advantage left the problem that had started it all nestled between her thighs, barely pressing against her body whenever they shifted. Whether just from their kissing or from that pressure, May had started to moan a little, making almost pained noises that Brendan was very certain he'd never heard before.

Brendan sought out her neck, slipping away from the kiss, though she protested quietly. Then he found the soft of her throat and she just dissolved, head tilting toward her back to invite his kisses, the noises becoming more frequent. May tried to pull her arms up to wrap around him, to take hold of his head and guide him to each part of her skin as it begged in turn, but her hands were trapped. In her struggling to free them, as he shifted to help her, their balance shifted, rolling the entire sleeping bag over slightly, leaving May flat on her back underneath Brendan.

If he expected her to be upset, he gave no hint, instead tilting his head to seek out new parts of her neck, parts of her skin he hadn't been able to touch before. For a moment all May could do was gasp, staring up into the forest, taking in the weight of him atop her.

“Brendan...” she groaned as his tongue found her pulse and snapped her back to the moment. “Th-there... oh...”

He continued to cover every inch of her neck with licks and kisses, with such gusto that May wondered how long he'd planned this, how long he'd wanted to do this to her. How long had she been letting herself miss out on this? “I...” she started, and his hips bucked against her at the sound of her voice, causing the rest of the thought to be lost in an urgent moan.

“May...” He breathed her name against her skin, voice hoarse from need and effort, and it only made her shiver again.

“I... I've meant it, too....” she managed finally. Her hands were balled tightly in the back of his shirt, her breathing ragged from all the times his movements made her gasp. She understood her own words a minute after she spoke them, and, recognizing them as the truth, wondered how long she'd felt that way.

She'd always thought of Brendan as a tool or an obstacle... a friend at best, but perhaps her attitude toward him had been fueled by denial all this time. After all, she wanted him here... in general, and at this moment... she needed him...

They were already pressed too closely together for her not to know he was hard against her, and it was her turn to arch her back greedily, trying to garner at least some friction for the heat she felt. Her stomach was tightened in a way she barely knew, her thighs slick against each other when she rocked up against him – and there was that pressure each time she found his hips. That hardness pressing into her was delicious, and the way it was making Brendan rumble beside her ear was more so... But there was something about it that only left her longing further, only satisfied her for that instant they ground together.

She knew what was formulating in her mind, between the hazy whimpers, as her hands groped their way around his waistband. She wasn't sure how to make it work, but she was sure that, pressed together like they were, she could find some way to satisfy their needs.

Brendan froze as he felt her hand wedge its way between them, then groaned lowly against her jaw, his hot breath searing her sweat-dewed skin. May whimpered between that feeling and the shock of how hot he was in her hand; his shaft seemed to be made of fire, even through the thin fabric of his boxers, let alone once she dared to reach inside and feel the skin straight on.

She heard her name again, and this time it was a plea for mercy from the boy on top of her, who had ceased movement aside from his rough breathing and the way his fingers slowly gripped and released her shoulder. Squeezing his erection carefully, May let her forehead set to his, coaxing their lips back together, their tongues meeting first to hurry the next kiss.

Her movements along his dick were short and uncertain, restrained by the weight of him on top of her. Still, she worked him over, massaging the very length that had been irritating her so much before, her thumb exploring the velvet of his head.

He could feel her wiggling beneath him, between the kisses and the rubbing, and at first he thought it was simply her own quest for release. Brendan wanted to put his fingers to work for her the way she was helping him, but didn't know where to begin, and suspected her hand was in the way of where he'd need to reach. Then she gave one big shift of her hips below him, and her hand slipped away from his member, leaving him whining lightly for more into her mouth.

But then there was the bare, silky heat of her skin against him, and his eyes went wide both from the shock of the sensation, and with understanding of what she'd been up to. While he'd been so drunk with pleasure that it was a struggle just to keep his tongue moving, May had been working her shorts down and his fly open, removing all barriers between them. His dick was now resting against her bare stomach, which was ten times softer and a hundred times hotter than her hand, making him moan with longing in the same way his own heat had effected her.

Brendan rocked experimentally against her belly, and she winced slightly, as he pushed just a little too hard into her. He kissed her apologetically on corner of her mouth and then her cheek, pausing the passion of their kiss to find a way to hold his weight a bit off of her. Finally he settled on resting on his elbows, which he hooked just above her shoulders, giving him free reach of her hair – he couldn't seem to stop playing with it – and May the same of his back.

He glanced to May's eyes, then lips, and fell back into the kiss as his length brushed her stomach again, more gently his time, his weight held on his elbows and knees, though keeping the distance between them was straining the sleeping bag and making it hard to move at all. She let out a coy sort of sigh into his lips, like she knew something he didn't, and so he pulled back again, resting on the rhythm of her breathing and asked, “What now?”

She smiled up at him, the barest corner of a grin trying to form from that sweet expression, and as he felt her shift again, he suddenly wondered if this wasn't some sort of a dream he was about to wake up from. He could remember more than a few where he'd gotten this far with her, only for dawn to interrupt him at exactly this moment... But tonight, Brendan was aware of all those other dreams, and he was fairly certain that meant the dampness he felt against his cock now was real.

May's sex lay just a breath from his tip, literally enough that if he inhaled deeply enough he could feel the slit part just a bit from the pressure. He let out a low moan at the feel of it, letting himself slide against her slickened thighs as she separated her legs as best she could within the confines of the bag around them. Her wetness had spread all along her pussy and the nearest parts of her legs, and where there wasn't that moisture, there was at least the thin layer of sweat that was forming from the heat and humidity within the sleeping bag. Brendan's length slid easily along her thighs, letting him essentially fuck the space between them and her outer lips, making the girl shiver beneath him.

“I-in,” she coaxed; it was half pleading, half commanding, but May needed something to soothe the heat pooled between her legs.

He thought of asking if she was sure, and began to whisper the question when he felt the hard knuckles of a finger on either side of his dick; she was spreading her lips for him, giving him the access he needed to push inside her and unite them. Brendan was the one shivering now as he felt the full degree of her wetness against his tip, his head twitching against her clit as he twisted his hips.

He knew how this was supposed to work, but the pictures always involved a lot more space and the girl's legs spread high in the air. Brendan had scarcely enough room between her legs for his member itself, let alone the rest of his hips, but it would have to do.

The first two strokes he made took him only along her slit, not quite going at the right angle to actually push into her pussy. She still whimpered quite enthusiastically at that friction though, his length dragging along her clit acting as more than enough to help with that yearning. He knew though that the heat wasn't wrapping around him entirely, and pushed himself just a little lower, looking May dead in the eye and letting out a quiet pant.

When he pushed forward again, his tip traced her lips and then found her opening, so that as he let his weight sink against her hips, he had nowhere else to go. Another half inch and he'd actually be inside of her, but first he had to break past what of her cherry her own fingers hadn't taken over the years. May gasped as he pressed into her, her head rolling back in an odd combination of pain and pleasure, the hand still on his back digging into his shirt furiously.

She bit her lip, humming a moan through that as the stinging was mostly overpowered by Brendan's thrusting; he had wasted no time starting to rock in and out of her, clearly oblivious to her rite of passage. She didn't mind though, knowing that he'd have fussed about her being in pain, and instead let herself glide past it. The way he was grinding into her was intoxicating enough that May quickly forgot about the pain anyway, her second hand returning to Brendan's back to cling to him alongside its partner.

From his perspective, Brendan found the short stutters of his hips to be both gratifying and frustrating; the feel of May wrapped around him and the sight of her face twisted in pleasure in the dying light of the fire were both amazing, but his body wanted more. His instincts told him to bury himself to the hilt inside of May, a task he couldn't accomplish with her thighs mostly closed beneath him, and somewhere inside he could imagine those muscular legs wrapping around his waist perfectly, letting him move several inches with each thrust, her hips rocking up to slam against his with each motion.

She seemed to have ways of squeezing him inside of her that more than made up for it, and the most amazing part, the part that made him call out her name, was that she seemed to be doing it purely in reaction to his movement inside of her, without any thought or reason to it. May was little more than a sweaty, moaning mess beneath him, her hips trying to jerk against his, her lips brushing messily across his face as she tried to writhe with him.

“Brendan!” she yowled, hands suddenly locked into his hair, pushing his hat up and off. “Bren... ah... fffuck... ...ndan...” she cried again, and as he moaned in return, he became very sure his name sounded much better with the extra syllables added, like it had been missing them all along.

Brendan's forehead rested heavily against hers, abs burning from the effort of the short thrusts into her, but he continued still, body shaking with pleasure and strain. As he watched her, her eyes struggled to focus on his, then finally shut entirely, her face screwing into the happiest wince he had ever witnessed. He was certain the glistening trail at the corner of her mouth was drool, but wasn't sure if it was left from their never-ending kisses or was a result of her inability to stop moaning long enough to swallow. His nose slipped past hers as he went to kiss her again, breathing in the long groan she let out, their mouths locked tightly together and held that way by the firm grip May now had on his hair.

He shifted his knees just enough lower to give him a little more room to thrust, letting him slip deeper inside of her as their lovemaking went from quick to frantic. The sleeping bag was, by now, half-soaked with their sweat and May's juices, and had unzipped slightly at the top as Brendan had pushed their chests a bit further apart earlier. The zipper jingled rapidly in time to his hips, slipping a little further whenever he shifted to kiss a different inch of her mouth or jaw, but its tune went ignored.

The only thing Brendan was concerned with now was the way May's toes were now wrapping around the fabric of his pants, grabbing at the hems and his ankles and then letting go again in search of a more solid purchase. All definition was gone from the sounds of the girl under him, replaced instead by a long note that varied depending on which was he was thrusting and was interrupted only when she gasped for breath. Her nails had found the exposed inch of his shoulders around his collar and were digging into him there, but it was his turn to be oblivious to pain in favor instead of the blinding pleasure of their sex.

It finally proved too much for May, and she scrambled for release, heels digging into the ground via the silky bedroll, back and hips arching up off the ground and forcing her as close to Brendan as space allowed. He pulled his lips from hers and rocked against her suspended hips, her name leaving his mouth as little more than a breath...

He felt her tense further as she cried out into the night air, and then lost track of the next several seconds as his seed spilled into her, his hips twitching independently of any orders from his otherwise limp form. Under him, May seemed to want to be everywhere at once, her hands grabbing alternately at his hair, his ass, and the sleeping bag with every pulse of her body around his member. She whimpered as her hips finally settled down onto the earth again, though not without twitching toward him one more time, and he gladly took her lips once more, spicing her remaining moans with his own and sharing them with her.

For several minutes they lay there, Brendan limp atop the equally motionless May, just breathing and listening to each others' hearts pound slower and slower. When he found the strength, Brendan wrapped one arm beneath her and used the other to roll them, letting them rest with her atop him; she was instantly almost asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of her “pillow”.

“I mean it,” he whispered, lips brushing over her forehead, and she managed a slight laugh, snuggling into his chest within the confines of their single sleeping bag. “This is all your fault.”


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