Tarantella
folder
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,029
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,029
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Three
Author's Note - A very tiny update to be sure. I'm afraid that I'm placating my uncertainty here, and as such, have been putting off anything explicitly sexual as everything I come up with seems to sound ever so slightly ridiculous to my ears. I'll get to the sex eventually. If I don't, I'd imagine these characters might kill me out of sheer frustration. But in the mean time, we'll all have to make due with sporadic bits of foreplay. Thanks again for all the patience and support. Cheers and Enjoy!
“Do you want me to touch you, Ran?”
There was something shockingly seductive about the low growl lurking just beneath Yohji’s almost hissed question. A touch of predatory intent prowling in anxious counterpoint to the slow grind of the wickedly nimble hips pressing him ruthlessly against cracked tile.
There were hands everywhere; on him, under him, beneath his skin and wrapped around his fast dwindling inhibitions; his consciousness shrinking into a pinhole of fixed fascination; desire slamming through his body like an act of god.
He could feel sweat pooling between his shoulder-blades and along the hollows of his throat, could feel it in the damp white cloth shifting with sticky ambition across the pallid stretch of his back, could feel it in the cold sigh of humid breath sliding up and down his skin like a memory.
It was very nearly too much.
Too much sensation. Too much emotion. Too much of the lie to really mean anything.
It was more than a surprise when Yohji pulled his hands away. The sudden loss of contact forcing a startled almost-whine from the back of Aya’s throat, even as those same aristocratic fingers splayed obscenely open on either side of Aya’s less than impassive face.
But with a quirk of Yohji’s flaxen head and a slight smirk to his roguish lips, all of Aya’s beautiful restraint bled away, trickling to the floor like iniquitous blood from a lifeless corpse.
The words, when they came, were quiet, but unmistakable.
“Yes… Yes… Touch me everywhere.”
“Do you want me to touch you, Ran?”
There was something shockingly seductive about the low growl lurking just beneath Yohji’s almost hissed question. A touch of predatory intent prowling in anxious counterpoint to the slow grind of the wickedly nimble hips pressing him ruthlessly against cracked tile.
There were hands everywhere; on him, under him, beneath his skin and wrapped around his fast dwindling inhibitions; his consciousness shrinking into a pinhole of fixed fascination; desire slamming through his body like an act of god.
He could feel sweat pooling between his shoulder-blades and along the hollows of his throat, could feel it in the damp white cloth shifting with sticky ambition across the pallid stretch of his back, could feel it in the cold sigh of humid breath sliding up and down his skin like a memory.
It was very nearly too much.
Too much sensation. Too much emotion. Too much of the lie to really mean anything.
It was more than a surprise when Yohji pulled his hands away. The sudden loss of contact forcing a startled almost-whine from the back of Aya’s throat, even as those same aristocratic fingers splayed obscenely open on either side of Aya’s less than impassive face.
But with a quirk of Yohji’s flaxen head and a slight smirk to his roguish lips, all of Aya’s beautiful restraint bled away, trickling to the floor like iniquitous blood from a lifeless corpse.
The words, when they came, were quiet, but unmistakable.
“Yes… Yes… Touch me everywhere.”