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Vin N\'Attend Personne	By : lyarrah Category: Pokemon > General Views: 2949 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon or any characters. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
A/N: This chapter took me way too long. I'm sorry about that.

This chapter is pure Sommeliershipping smut, aka “what this fic was supposed to be to begin with”. I hope everyone enjoys it, and I hope I kept them in character. I know I run this phrase into the ground, but I really do love reviews and appreciate the feedback.

Also, the last quarter or so of this hasn't been through my editor yet, and I'll be reloading this as soon as he gets it back to me. In the mean time, if anyone sees any errors there or in any of the French, please let me know.

Vin N'Attend Personne – Chapter 3

Lyraeon/Lyra Kamiya

Cilan studied his rival's face as she yelled at him, returning her glare with equal judgment. “There are many forms of obsession. The question you need to consider, is whether yours is good or bad, and how to handle it.”

The door clicked shut, leaving both sommeliers standing in Burgundy and Georgia's shared room, with Burgundy still clinging to his vest in a way that would have seemed almost cute in different circumstances.

“Moufflarge,” she sneered finally, grinding her teeth. “I am not in love with you.”

“So you say, and yet,” he lowered his tone as he raised one hand to her chin, tilting it upward slightly, “you're the one who chose those words.”

She growled and her grip tightened. Mentally, Cilan prepared himself for a rough meeting with the wall, though he didn't let his face betray his concern.

The hit never came, nor did another fierce kiss, which had been his next guess. Instead, Burgundy was motionless aside from darting eyes that regarded his with total contempt, as though his touch on her face was holding her frozen.

He bent down to meet her again, his open lips suckling against hers with every bit of the gentleness and poise she lacked. Her shoulders hunched and she went rigid against him at the touch; she had little practice in the art of kissing, and her frustration magnified her inexperience. Not to be outdone, she quickly matched him motion for motion – to the best of her ability – pushing up higher on her toes to gain more control.

Slowly he coaxed her to match him, pulling back each time she got too forceful for his liking and leaving teasing licks on the curve of her lips when her grip finally started to loosen. Cilan's hand slipped from her chin, grazing up the line of her jaw and cupping her right cheek. At the touch, she let out the first sound he'd heard from her all night that wasn't meant to chastise him: an almost wistful sigh, laced with an unmistakable yearning.

Her own reaction seemed to shock her, as Burgundy jerked away from his lips, swatting his hand from her cheek. “Don't think that just because I've had a couple glasses of wine, I will fall for your tricks so easily.”

“I have no intention to trick you,” he promised, holding his hands up to show they were nowhere near her. “I just thought a few lessons in finesse would suit you,” he added, his smile holding the same subtle darkness as his prior taunt.

The look earned him a firm pull from the hand still attached to his vest as she dragged him into her again, followed by another of her now-familiar fierce kisses. He chuckled, prompting her to end the kiss quicker than its predecessors.

“What you call finesse is no more than fancy words to cover your stupidity,” she snapped, releasing him from her hold finally. “A pretty face and pretty words will only get you so far.”

“And yet you've managed to bring me here with only one of those at your disposal.”

When she reached for him again, he braced for another barrage to his lips. What he got instead was a firm shove to his chest, which left him unceremoniously flailing for balance.

The back of his knees connected with the edge of the bed before he could right himself. In all of her tugging and dragging, Burgundy had managed to pull him past the entryway and turn him – mostly – to have his back to the bed. He barely had a chance to be impressed by the idea she'd actually planned such a maneuver before she was on him, straddling his lap and shoving her tongue down his throat once more.

Cilan tried to calm her kisses again, leaning away from her and barely returning the hungry motions. This time, she refused to let him regain control, instead grabbing him by the tie and keeping them firmly lip-locked. Each of her breaths brought a new growl of frustration, and she was reaching a point where he feared her teeth would soon leave bruises on his lips. He needed a way to focus her passion a few degrees away from her rage. Blindly – he couldn't see past her face, at the angle she held him to – his hands skirted the layers upon layers of wine-stained pink tulle pooled upon his lap, until he found the beaded waist and began to ghost his fingers along her sides.

Burgundy shuddered from the touch, falling slightly into him, and he had to drop an arm behind him to support them both. The distraction weakened her kiss just enough that he almost escaped, though, so his other hand continued drawing light patterns through the satin bodice. Her back arched ever so slightly as his touch passed onto it... Then she gasped, and he had his freedom.

His head tilted, ducking his chin under hers, and he nuzzled his lips into the soft of her throat. Burgundy's grip on his bowtie faltered, her palms flattening against him as his tongue began to lap gently at her neck. “B-bête,” she snarled, but the meaning drained from her insult as his kisses found her pulse.

Cilan worked his way lower, tracing the contours of her neck and the underlying tendons as Burgundy let out low groans above him. It seemed, for the moment at least, she'd forgotten all about her quest to prove herself better than him, and was instead content to enjoy his talent. Her fingers grappled into him, pulling at his shirt and vest again, but more gently now, in search of purchase instead of possession.

“That's better,” he murmured against her skin. He leaned back up, capturing her lower lip between his wetly before Burgundy had a chance to react to his words. As he sat straight once more, the hand on her back pulled her closer, pressing their torsos together and robbing her of whatever insult she tried to issue when their lips parted.

His now-free hand worked to undo his bowtie before she tried to use it as a handle again, tossing it to the side before snatching another taste of her lips. Cilan could feel her trying to glare at him from the way her forehead knitted against his.

“You think you're so great,” she finally complained, barely removing her lips from his.

“I do,” he agreed, smirking at the gasp she let out as his fingers traced the damp trail he'd left on her neck. “I have far more patience and practice than you ever will.”

While he was far from humble, Cilan was normally above bragging. Burgundy was, of course, the exception to this rule. So long as she insisted in tearing into him on a liquor-fueled rage, he would return the favor in his own style.

“I still know what I'm doing,” she insisted, shifting restlessly against him.

“Mmm... The basics, perhaps. But there is so much I could teach you, if you were willing to learn...”

To his surprise, the kiss she initiated at his words carried none of the venom she'd displayed over the night. Instead, it seemed filled with the same longing her first moan had spoken of, and Cilan rewarded her for the uncharacteristic gentleness by pulling her closer still, until their bodies were formed flush to each other.

Then she moaned, seeming to melt into his mouth, and he returned the sound, his left hand joining his right on her back.

Cilan's fingers found the zipper of her dress, tugging at it gently at first to ask permission, then harder, slowly unfastening it. Their kiss deepened again with every inch he revealed, though she seemed calmer throughout. He wasn't sure yet if she had spent all of her rage, or was merely biding it for the right time to lash out at him again. His lips slipped up her jaw line just the same, working their way across her skin once more.

His hands glided up to fold the flower neckline of her dress over, pushing it from the crowns of her shoulders and exposing her back and collarbone. Skilled lips followed, smothering each newly discovered inch of her skin with his attention.

“Ahh... Cilan... Embrasse-moi,” she groaned. It was the first time she'd called him by name all night, and the sound sent an expectant shiver through him. One hand snuck away from the collar he was pulling at to coax her face to his again, kissing her as she had asked, only to drop and begin work on his own buttons after the brief contact.

Burgundy whimpered when his lips left hers, and now it was his turn to feel as if he might melt.

Their series of kisses and nudges progressed until her arms were free of both dress straps and his vest was across the room, half his chest exposed to her exploring fingers. Unsupported, her dress sank lower, exposing the strapless bra she wore beneath, and his lips followed, grazing the thicker fabric as she whimpered on his lap.

She began another series of expletives as his fingers made their way under the bra, his hand cupping her breast and squeezing firmly as he freed it from those confines. Burgundy clawed at his shirt, but her shouting didn't seem quite angry; rather it was just her gut reactions to the pleasure, uncensored by the alcohol still circulating her veins.

Then his tongue reached her newly exposed nipple. Her hand smacked across his face, somewhere between a slap and a shove, pushing him away from her before she even seemed to recognize she'd hit him.

If she had any remorse for doing so, it vanished the next second. “Débauché! Ne me touche pas avec ta sale langue,” she slurred, though she licked her own lips as she did. The fact she was speaking the wrong language seemed to hit her the next second, and she grabbed his half-open shirt with both hands, swallowing as though it would correct her vocal chords. “Your mouth is not fit to taste my greatness.”

Cilan smirked, trying not to call her on her sheer absurdity. “You seemed perfectly content to let it be all over your precious mouth.”

“This golden tongue of mine can't be tainted, not even by the likes of you. What better way to demonstrate my abilities than through a contest of oral skill... your tongue against mine.”

It was clear that she meant the kisses they'd exchanged for the last few minutes, but it was clearer still that she was trying to cover for how much she'd been enjoying those kisses. Just the same, Cilan was far from above twisting his rival's words, especially when she was already making such a fool of herself. “I agree,” he grinned, flashing his teeth. “We shall see who has more skill... As my junior, I'll allow you the stage first, if you wish.”

He leaned back until he was resting on his elbows, his lips twisting into a smile that was only a few shades shy of sinister – and he was only holding back that far to see how she'd respond to his challenge. Burgundy faltered, her balance suddenly thrown by her handhold slipping away from her. Her wobble easily cleared up any confusion she might have had about Cilan's meaning, as it sent her grinding against the rather obvious bulge in his lap.

“Letting me go first... ha! You're simply trying to delay putting in any effort,” she complained, doing her best to hold herself up and away from his erection.

“If that's true, there's a whole second bed you can collapse on, away from me, and I won't bother you in the least. However... the effort and skill you put in will directly effect what I do... assuming you continue our little contest, of course.”

Burgundy huffed, doing her best to seem offended by Cilan's rules, even as she ground herself against his lap “accidentally” to test the waters. Her reaction – a harsh gasp and another lapse in balance – seemed to catch even her off guard, and she bit her tongue to silence herself.

There was a glint in Cilan's eyes when she met them again. “You seem to have trouble sitting still... perhaps I've overestimated your patience?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” she snapped, straightening to rise above him before she could get distracted again. She took a deep breath, bracing her hands on her knees and looking down on the man sprawled beneath her, ignoring the slight smirk still on his face. His vest was long since gone, his shirt down to two buttons holding it together, and for the life of her she couldn't remember if she'd been the one to unfasten the rest or not. His bare skin showed underneath the opening, beads of perspiration decorating his chest already from the intensity of their kisses.

Only half-aware that her own outfit matched his state of disarray, Burgundy reached for him slowly, her fingertips setting to his skin and tracing along one edge of his shirt. The silence that passed between them as she considered his offer felt almost surreal, and the idea that it was his skin under her fingers and his saliva still wet on her neck felt incomprehensible.

“...Fine, I accept your challenge,” she said finally, her thumb nudging its way under the next button. Her other hand reached up to grip his shoulder, letting her lean toward his lips again while still clumsily unbuttoning his shirt with the first hand. She licked her lips, willing all of her confidence, and any rage that felt like coming along for the ride, back into the open. “Prepare to be tasted like never before.”

Cilan had no time to let out his laugh at her words before their lips pressed together again, so it died into a weak groan before he willed himself into silence. This would be a test of her enthusiasm and skill, and as such he wanted to give her as little to work with as possible. He wouldn't be emotionless or reaction-free, no, but he did hope to counteract the effect of the alcohol, at least.

She had the enthusiasm part down well, at least. He could feel her smug smirk as she drug one hand down his stomach and, after managing to find his pants under her layers of skirt, shoved her hand straight in.

Burgundy carried no shame in the way she grabbed him through the thin cotton of his underwear. If anything, the look of frustrated concentration she wore as she pulled from there kiss was due to there still being anything separating her hand from the dick beneath it. By making this a challenge and a game, Cilan had given her permission to want him and take him without it being about any of the emotions she carried for him. She could act as she pleased now, and any awkward confessions could wait, should they even be needed.

That was, above all else, why he'd told her to go first. He wanted to see what motivated her – whether her flailing was that of a sexually frustrated teenager, a puppy-love-sick girl who'd had too much to drink, or a woman in love with a man she felt inferior to. Of course there was a certain amount of sadism to his approach, from all the headaches she'd put him through and the twice she'd slapped him tonight, but overall he was testing her. The way she treated him would affect not only what and how he did for her in return, but whether or not he let his underlying affection for her show through during it. If he'd gone first, it would have been far too easy to taint her opinion with his skill and his own feelings.

The fingers that had been tracing his outline and the seams of his boxer-briefs finally find their way to the waistband, and she wasted no time grabbing him and squeezing him fully. There was just enough hesitation in her grip to spell out her inexperience – she knew what she was looking for, and what to do with it, but at this point Cilan highly doubted she'd ever touched any male anatomy before. Her kisses had spoken of that same innocence, though not as loudly.

Either way, she had the sense to let her lips nip and suckle their way down his neck as they slid away from the kiss, and he rewarded her with a pleased sigh. A sudden haughtiness passed over her posture at the sound. He would have regretted giving her even that much to work with had her palm sliding across his cock on its way back out of his pants not felt so exceptionally good.

As Burgundy tried to climb off the bed, her dress worked its way another few inches down. This proved to be just enough of an annoyance and distraction that she shoved it off before continuing, tripping a couple times as she stepped out of it and kicked it aside. Her bra remained cockeyed, one breast exposed, and she gave it a passing sneer before deciding it wasn't worth worrying about at the moment.

She dropped to her knees between Cilan's legs with a slight thump, a lackluster “ow” crossing her lips at the impact. Her hands slid up his thighs roughly, coming to rest at his hip bones. Her tongue darted across her lips hungrily, and for a moment Cilan honestly wondered if she realized the fly in front of her belonged to the same guy she'd been taunting for months or if she was simply running on lust-fueled autopilot now. Her fingers hooked over the edge of his pants, giving an experimental tug. Only the top button was undone so far, and with his zipper still fastened, his pants stayed firmly in place.

Leaning forward, she clumsily tried to grab the zipper pull between her teeth, missing twice before giving up and just yanking it down with her hand. The effect on Cilan was immediate and harsher than he wanted to admit. His head fell back as he sucked in a harsh breath at the feeling of her lips against him, even through the layers of fabric. Her previous grinding had felt great in its own right, but had been too rough and irregular to enjoy properly. Now, however, the anticipation was setting in.

She yanked down both layers together, and the way he sprang upward once free seemed to catch Burgundy off guard. She leaned back from him, taking several seconds to correct her surprise into a skeptical scowl. “C'est sensé m'impressionner?” she complained, wrapping her hand around his base and giving the whole length a slight shake.

Their eyes caught for a second, during which he gave her a half-amused smirk that she pretended not to notice. She gave his dick a few experimental strokes. He wasn't sure whether her excessive roughness was intentional or just her not knowing better, but he gritted his teeth through it, waiting to see if it improved.

Her free hand pushed her hair behind her ear, her head tilting with surprising grace for her inebriation as she leaned in. Cilan bit his cheek to hold back any hint of a reaction as she gingerly licked his tip.

Burgundy's nose wrinkled. There was a certain almost sweaty bitterness to him, but overall he tasted no different here than his neck had. Her tongue flitted across her lips, wetting them, and she cast him another sneer.

He met her with an oversized smile, and by the time her mouth closed over his length, her cheeks were stained a deeper red than the wine on her dress.

Cilan's head fell back as the heat wrapped around him, causing him to let out a long, relaxed sigh. Inexperienced or not, it was hard to really mess up a blow job, and she was putting the same kind of enthusiasm into it already that her kisses had carried. Her head bobbed along his length with a slightly uneven rhythm, popping off his tip with a slight gasp every few strokes. She definitely had the theory down, at least, and the hand holding him steady was doing a good job of stroking the inches she couldn't fit into her mouth.

It was the first actual sucking noise – air slipping past her lips as she sucked on him too hard – that finally made him groan for her. He could resist all he wanted, but at some point, the responses just became instinctive, superseding his own want to make her work to make up for all of her stupidity and ranting.

He shifted to support himself on only one elbow, looking down to where she was focused between his legs. He couldn't help but grin – both from how cute she honestly looked, blushing brightly while she sucked him off, and from how classically Burgundy the look of concentration on her face was. He reached down with his now-free hand, stroking back the hair that had fallen free of her grip and resting his fingers atop hers.

For a split second, she seemed to lose herself, moaning lightly around him and letting her head rest into their joined hands. Then, just as quickly, she was back, pushing his hand away and glaring daggers up at him. He couldn't decide if a threat from a girl who had his dick in her mouth was hilarious or worrisome. Her next stroke slid far enough down his length to distract him from the debate, however, and he let out another moan, this one fully genuine.

Burgundy pulled back off him with the kind of laugh he knew meant she was about to gloat about something, and his smile faded as he rolled his eyes, ready to cut her off the moment she spoke.

“You're just as perverted as I expec-”

“If you spent half as much effort on honing your skills as you do on finding insults for me, you would be at least a class higher by now. Besides – which one is the pervert, when it's your hand currently down my pants?”

“I!” she snapped, her thoughts too incomplete to get her any further on that breath. “I-I- ...I'll show you skill!” she stammered, frustration wringing her voice as she pulled herself toward his cock once more.

“No,” he said simply, sitting up and gently pushing her away. “I've had enough of your lackluster efforts.”

An almost hopeless quiver passed across Burgundy's face, replaced quickly by her trademark growl of annoyance at his very existence. Cilan frowned, unsure – not for the first time – if the tightness in his chest was from her expression, or from how quick she was to hide it.

“...Get on the bed.” His voice stayed impressively level as he struggled to balance between frustration and lust. “That is, if you would like to taste real skill.”

Her arms were up off his lap quickly, though she made no attempt to stand up. Instead, she sat there on her knees, gawking silently. It seemed that, for once, Cilan had managed to stun her into silence – because for once, he had dropped all attempts at indulging or even tolerating her belligerence. He stood abruptly, causing her to reel back further, then stepped to the side.

By the time their eyes met again, he was staring down at her in an impressive display of patience. “On the bed,” he repeated, motioning to the empty space. “Unless you'd prefer I take my leave.”

Shaking slightly, Burgundy shook her head quickly, clamoring to her feet and onto the bed. As she situated herself, Cilan disrobed further, leaving him in only his boxer-briefs and his open dress-shirt, the sleeves of which he rolled up slowly as he approached her.

“Your problem,” he began, striding so that he stood alongside the bed, “is that you have failed to understand one of the most basic principles of being a Sommelier.” He sat sideways on the edge of the bed, next to the hastily sprawled girl, letting one hand rest on her quivering stomach as he leaned over her. His face was barely a breath from hers as he continued, “And that is the ability to put your own biases aside long enough to read people.”

She wasn't sure if his lips reached her breast or his fingers reached her slit first, but one distracted her from the other just long enough for the two to blur. Her hips crested further, pushing her core and the soaked silk panties that still covered it up into his fingers. She called out somewhere between surprise and delight, and by the time the arch of her hips rolled up her spine to throw her head back, her hands seized the pillow on either side of her head with all her might.

With one clean motion, he pulled his lips away, pulling her panties all the way to her ankles before she even knew he had a second hand on them. Burgundy kicked them off her ankle as his fingers trailed back up her body, her legs inching open as his hand stalled to stroke her thigh.

His fingers slipped away and the older sommelier climbed onto the bed fully, straddling one of her legs as he bent to suckle her breasts. Burgundy yelped under him, squirming and doing her best to keep her hands as far away from him as possible. She fully expected him to claim her at any second. Every time his fingers strayed down her waist; every time he pulled away to lavish her other nipple or her neck instead; every time she felt his erection graze her thigh as his balance shifted, she expected that moment to be the last instant of her virginity.

One hand hooked behind her knee, slowly bending her leg upwards, making her squirm more as she was sure she could feel him poised over her. His lips trailed toward her navel, his other hand sinking between her legs, parted fingers grazing on either side of her slit, barely avoiding her most sensitive parts.

She arched underneath him, her whimpers growing wilder and more frustrated by the second, pushing herself up until she could feel his torso against her hips. “Dépêche...” she whined, hands seizing his shirt by the shoulders. “Dépêche et mets-la dedans!”

Her voice rang out, echoing off the thick hotel walls. Cilan froze intentionally, leaving his fingers and lips both just a breath from her skin, so that there was no sound in the room, only the silence left in the wake of her cry. For several seconds he waited, letting the implications of her volume set in to Burgundy's inebriated mind, waiting for her the inevitable embarrassed flailing to come.

She whimpered instead, her head twisting to the side so that her cheek nuzzled into the pillow, one hand pulling away from him and curling to cover her face. It was another motion that would have been cute coming from anyone else – that was slightly cute. He was momentarily torn between continuing his lecture for her outburst and rewarding her for not lashing out at him after it, and he placed a single, soft kiss on her stomach as he contemplated his response.

A mix of both – the tough love he'd grown accustomed to using with her – seemed like the most appropriate course.

“The other thing you lack,” he whispered, his voice still carrying the depth and authority with which he'd commanded her onto the bed with, “is patience. But for now, we'll start with lesson one.”

Burgundy's voice echoed through the room once more, this time a wordless cry of pleasure as Cilan let his middle finger slide between her folds. He rocked the full length inside of her as his lips made their way down to her thigh, then began inching back up toward her core. The closer he got, the more she squirmed, and his grip on her leg tightened, limiting her movement so that he was in full control of where inside her his finger rubbed.

“More,” she choked, pulling at his shirt again.

He chuckled, letting his teeth graze the inside of her thigh. “The more impatient you are, the more you're just telling me you're enjoying it.” Just the same, he slid a second finger inside of her, earning another urgent moan from the younger girl from the intrusion alone.

Cilan suckled slowly at her skin, not aiming to leave a mark but not caring if he did, either. Instead, he was using the moment to listen, to gauge her reactions as he wiggled and twisted his fingers inside of her. He was searching for the spots that made her moan the lowest, the ones that made her hips jerk unconsciously. When her back began to arch, he smiled to himself, pulling his fingers back out of her slowly.

“No,” Burgundy yelped, quickly grabbing for his hand with both of hers. He snatched them both in his grip easily, smirking when her eyes darted to the two wet fingers now wrapped around her wrists. He let go of her slowly, catching her gaze with his own.

“More?” he asked, his voice blatantly mocking. “You're already soaked... Just from me working my way down here? Or did you enjoy tasting me that much?”

Her eyes were already shaking, but they snapped away at that point, her next breath far more shallow.

“You can't lie to an A-class sommelier; you realize that, don't you? Your body is already more than happy to tell me how much you're enjoying having me between your legs, although your words haven't been too with that either. And now your eyes carry an embarrassed taste...”

Another sound of protest arose from her, but he cut it off with another gentle nip of her thigh. His hand slid between her legs again, joining his other to part her lips carefully. Burgundy shivered as the room's cold air hit her wet folds, her next whimper sounding a little too much like his name.

“There's no shame in admitting you liked having your way with me.” His voice still carried just enough malice to suggest teasing, but there was a shift in his tone, one that called her attention so that her eyes were locked on him again as his breath caressed her intimately. “It's obvious how long we've both been fantasizing about this.”

“I have n-” her words faded into a long, drawn out moan as Cilan wrapped his lips around her clit and gave a long, hard suck, wasting no time or pretense on gentle licks to prepare the sensitive nub. There was a wet slurp as he released her again, only to begin kissing and lapping along her slit, his thumbs and forefingers holding her open so that he could reach as much as possible. Any part of her he could trap between his lips to rub or suck, he did. Anything and everything else, he only licked, his skilled tongue finding nerves Burgundy had no idea existed.

His movements were not the random, desperate motions she'd employed on his shaft; instead, they were planned out, each lick ending just shy of her clit so that only his breath touched it from that first suckle onward. The purple-haired girl was quickly reduced to a whimpering, shivering mess under his skills. Her hands grappled with his collar and hair, trying to steer him incoherently as she was unsure of where she wanted to go beyond toward release. Her hips rolled repeatedly, particularly when his tongue flirted with her entrance, begging to be filled once more. Her voice was nothing but a desperate series of vowels and panting, nothing managing to form full words in either language she spoke, unless they could be uttered in a single syllable; “Yes... Oui... Bon... Good... More...”

Finally, his hands slipped away from their posts, one moving to massage her hip and thigh as he worked, the other returning its two fingers into her, an occasion she welcomed with a yelp and a swift jerk on his shoulders. Cilan spared her a scolding for the moment, instead finally paying attention to her nub once more. He guided it into his mouth, where he held it gently, swirling his tongue around it in circles that made her shiver and run her nails up his scalp.

Then his fingers curled inside her, and it was as though the rest of her went limp.

His gloating smile was wasted, as his lips were still wrapped around, and now quite firmly sucking on, her little bundle of nerves. Her head was rolled too far back to see his face, anyway, but at the least words no longer seemed to be failing the young sommelier. A series of gleeful curses and encouragement fell from her, indicating that she no longer cared that it was specifically the scourge of her existence poised between her legs and pleasuring her. It felt too good for her to object, to care, to do anything except writhe in time with the stroking of his fingers inside her and clutch at the pillow.

Her hips gave a swift jerk, pushing against him for the first time since his tongue had reached her clit, and his grip on her thigh tightened again as answer, pushing her into the mattress to try to keep her still. One leg wound up over his shoulder, her heel pressing into his back, but he ignored it, taking any discomfort on his end as a sign he was making good progress. The now-stifling tightness of his underwear was far more uncomfortable than her foot in his back, regardless – and both served only as inspiration to work more quickly, despite his lecture to Burgundy about patience.

She gave an odd squeak, her body tightening around her fingers, and with a final rough suck he pulled his lips away from her center and pressed them to the crease of her hip. Cilan tried for a moment to catch his breath, redoubling the efforts of his fingers inside of her. Her desperate whines over the loss of his attention to her clit fell on deaf ears, his lips working their way up her stomach with every complaint Burgundy issued. “It feels,” she gasped, her hips giving another desperate jerk, “It feels like-”

Fingers pressed more firmly still against her forward wall, grinding along the sensitive surface and making her feel fuller than two fingers possibly should have.

“Like you're going to burst?” he coaxed, earning a particularly pained whimper from the girl beneath him. “Like you won't forgive yourself if I make you cum so easily, but at the same time not riding this out would be a terrible waste of the opportunity?”

“Bête,” she snarled, only to groan and grab for his wrist again when he didn't stop. “Bastard! Y-you're lucky I... ahhhh...” She moaned, then inhaled with a hiss, unable to complete her thought for all of the restless twisting of her hips and spine.

“Je... Je viens!”

She screamed through gritted teeth as the orgasm coursed through her, her body tensing and her grip on his wrist becoming almost painful. Defiantly, he continued to rub his fingertips inside her, even as he could feel her squeezing him. Her hand fell away, pawing uselessly at her own leg instead, the other still tightly wrapped into her pillowcase.

Her second scream was a clear, “Yes!” as another pulse rolled through her, this time soaking Cilan's hand and arm, clear to his rolled-up sleeve, in her juices.

It took several seconds for the wet motions of the older sommelier's fingers to become audible over Burgundy's moaning, but once that balance shifted he carefully slowed and stopped, pulling his now-drenched fingers free from her gently and placing a soft kiss on the part of her thigh where his head had come to rest.

She issued a weak groan as his fingers slipped away, squinting as she tried, with difficulty, to keep her eyes open and focused on her rival. He brought his hand up to his face, purposefully holding her gaze with a heavy smirk. With his palm and fingers held back and taught, his tongue met with his wet wrist, cleaning her juices from his arm and hand with one long, slow lick, eyes never breaking from hers.

Burgundy let out a shallow, almost pained moan, her voice and mind torn between the exhaustion her orgasm had caused and another surge of arousal at Cilan's motions. He repeated the motion, this time ending with an exaggerated sweep up the side of his middle finger, and her eyes fluttered shut, her hips giving a weak jerk.

“Done so soon?” he asked in a husky whisper, his other hand brushing along her thigh in a way that made her whimper.

“N-no,” she protested weakly. “I-I...”

“Roll over.”

There was a pause – perhaps her last attempt at objecting to him, despite the number of times he'd been right that night alone, or perhaps just her finding the energy to obey his command – before Burgundy covered her face with both hands. A few deep breaths later, just as Cilan was about to repeat himself, she gave a slow nod and reached to the side, slowly turning herself. He could hear her muttering, the words “evil” and “payback” featuring amongst her jumble of words, but she worked her way onto her side anyway.

The moment both of her legs were on the same side of him, Cilan grabbed her by the hips, turning her onto her stomach and jerking her hips upright. She pulled her knees under her amidst a slew of curses, her arms proving far less reliable as they crumpled under her with every attempt to prop herself upright.

In the end, she was left with her rear in the air, her shoulders and one side of her face planted firmly into the sheets. Cilan wasted no time in pulling himself free from his boxer-briefs once more, letting his length rub along the cleft of her ass as both hands took hold of her hips roughly.

“So tell me,” he said, letting his weight sink against her, “Have you learned anything yet? Do you think you can read my intentions?”

She whimpered underneath him again, burying her face into the mattress as her back arched further. She rocked back against him, her movements sudden and jagged, her voice muffled as she moaned into the bed.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” he asked, giving a firm grind against her. His own voice faltered part way through, pained with anticipation, but he forced himself onward; letting his guard down around her was for a later time, if and when that happened.

Burgundy let out another smothered noise, only for Cilan to rock against her again. Her head twisted to the side, hands balling up the layers of sheet and blanket under her and digging her nails into it as she mustered up the strength to yell back at him.

“Fuck me already!”

He was lining himself up with her before she even finished her strained demand, pausing only long enough to drag one more teasing pass of his tip across her slick mound. “As you wish,” he answered, his voice dripping with condescension.

There was no hiding the satisfaction in his voice when he pushed inside her a second later, though the combination of his moan and the feeling of him suddenly buried inside of her only drove Burgundy to scream again. Her face pressed into the bed as her voice grew more shrill, her spine arching to push herself back against Cilan until he was buried to the hilt inside of her. His fingers dug into her thighs, holding her still for a few precious seconds as he got used to her heat, using what was left of his will power to steel himself against the sensation.

All bets were off the instant he moved again, thrusting in and out of her repeatedly at a pace that spoke loudly of the intervening hour between her first kiss and the moment he'd finally gotten his way with her. Only the barest fragments of the sommelier's normal poise remained as he pounded into her, and those last threads saved his moans from becoming curses to echo Burgundy's, nothing more.

Every time their hips met, Burgundy sank a little further into the mattress, though her arms did their best to push her back against him and keep her from going completely flat on the bed. Just the same, she slipped a little further every few strokes, and whenever she slipped too far Cilan would interrupt their rhythm to pull her back upright. It was the only break she got from the rapid pounding of his length into her, and the only time her squeaks formed real words. Even with his dick buried deep inside of her, pushing her steadily toward a second orgasm, Burgundy couldn't keep herself from insulting him for more than a few breaths.

The next time he jerked her hips upright, her usual curses were replaced by a sound closer to a growl. Her knuckles had gone white from clinging to the sheets for so long, and when he pressed into her again her head jerked upright, her teeth clamped shut and filtering the screech she tried to let out. When her head flopped back on the bed, it was clear she'd stopped trying to fight the pleasure coursing through her with every rough, wet stroke her rival made.

“C'est bon!” she shouted, her head lolling against the bed in time to their rocking. He could barely see her face past her shoulder and the curls of her hair resting on her cheek, but her tongue was just visible, wetting her lips in between impassioned moans. Her eyes opened ever so slightly, catching his for a moment as he arched over her.

Cilan swallowed hard at the expression, his hands tightening a little more on her waist. The pause made him notice his own groaning only by the absence of it, sending a shiver through him that robbed him of all but the last shreds of his composure. “B-Burgundy,” he stammered, falling forward until his hands rested on the bed on either side of her, their bodies pressed more closely together as he continued to rock against her.

Unable to handle his weight on her, Burgundy sank into the bed quickly, her legs sprawled and her hands clutching to the bed for dear life as she yelped with every thrust. Cilan slid to his elbows above her, still pressed against her from hips to neck, his lips now grazing her nape and shoulder with every breath. Her curses had all but vanished, replaced by breathless praise he could barely understand between her moans and her lapses back to French. “Ça fait... Ça fait du bien,” she managed, her hips jerking against his weakly. “So.. so good. So much better...”

She trailed off into a chorus of lustful whimpers, her lips trying to grab for his, though that was impossible at their angle. Half-stunned and equally eager both to reach his long-awaited climax and to hear what his weakened rival wanted to say, he whispered against her skin and pressed a long kiss to her spine. “Better than?”

“Better than...” she shivered, her body stiffening under him with a whine. “Better than I thought it would-”

She yelped at his next stroke, her grip on the blankets tightening as Cilan felt her push her hips back against his, tilting them to meet his demanding strokes. He groaned at the new angle, doing his best to keep up his pace despite the waves of pleasure rocking through him from the girl underneath him. Just as he tried to catch her eye again, her eyes flickered upward, her mouth hanging open in a low groan that rose in volume with every crash of their hips.

Cilan wasn't sure who came first. Between the lingering effects of alcohol and his mind trying to wrap around Burgundy's partial admission that she had wanted this to happen, his mind was too clouded to be sure when the younger sommelier's screaming transitioned from pleasure to orgasm. When his arrived, however, he held himself tightly to Burgundy's sweaty form, forehead pressed into her shoulder as he filled her. She shuddered underneath him, calling out his name, and he groaned hers back, laying a kiss on her spine before collapsing, his arms too worn out to hold him any longer.

As soon as he could stand to move, Cilan rolled off her, carefully coaxing her onto her side and collecting her in his arms. She whined slightly, doing her best to look annoyed by his presence, but she slid one arm between his back and shirt, holding onto him weakly in return.

Once she stopped periodically shivering and her breathing began to soften into a light snore, the gym leader carefully nudged her to the side, pulling the blankets out from under them and tucking them both in. For a moment, Burgundy seemed to snap out of her pleasure-induced haze, a blush spreading across her face and a familiar scowl appearing on her otherwise sleepy face.

Cilan spoke softly, offering his arms to her without actually touching her. “If you still hate me in the morning, you can yell at me then. For now, we should sleep, and let our neighbors do the same.”

“I don't hate you,” she grumbled, not meeting his eyes as she scooted closer, resting her head on his arm. “I never have, I just... wanted to beat you, fir-”

He flashed her an exhausted smile, pressing a silencing finger to her lips and a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I know,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. “Yours is a unique flavor. Bold and a little sour, but still quite exquisite. I'm glad to have tasted it.”

Her eyes were shut, her breath shallow by the time he wrapped his arm around her, cradling her loosely under his chin. “With time, you'll make a fine sommelier, I know it.”
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