cribellate | SERAPHIM DIAS

[She leans back against him, rocks a little, cheeky, and raises one her hands, now free, behind him so she can put it on the back of his neck. If he looks down now, she knows exactly the view it affords him.]

I should stop distracting the illustrious young Lord Black, shouldn't I?

[She drops the title with such teasing, no reverence at all.]

[It's a good view, and he takes advantage of it--so distracting in its own way that he sort of forgets to go on, at least for a moment--just gets another handful of water and lets it drip down her front, watching the drops glistening on her bare skin.]

I don't think you could stop distracting me if you tried.

[There's something thrilling, in hearing her say a title like that--something that makes his toes curl. He likes that. He likes his superiority, and even if she's teasing, there's a pleasing sound to it, and he twists to kiss at the side of her throat as he lets another handful of water slip down her front, following it with his hand, tracing along her wet skin with his fingers.]

You should never give a girl like me power like that, it will make this into a very different game.

[She lets one hand fall against his thigh, run up the side of it. She can't help but lean against him now, she loves the pace of this, the way his skin feels against hers, and she gives a tiny little sigh, one that's clearly pleased.]

You give me all sorts of very awful ideas.

[He laughs, quietly--and there's a shiver to it as well, just at the edge; he bites at his lip as her fingers trace along his leg--but he's not going to give in just yet.]

You think you've got the power here? It's an illusion of power. You're distracting, but I could still do what I wanted. It just so happens that this is what I want, right now.

[He lets his hand stray down to her hip, following along the curve where it meets her thigh, tracing inwards for a moment, slowly--and he kisses her neck again, a little lower, a little harder.]

Mmmhmm. Lord Black has all the power, I shant forget.

[She splays her hand on his hip, pulls his hips closer.]

All the power to leave as many marks as he likes, is that it?

[Because she's tilting her head, letting him kiss there, rocking back-]

For starters. Maybe.

[One more kiss, to her throat--but the pressure of her hand on his hip, and the little pressure of that push back, against him--Merlin, it's too much, and he grabs hold of her arms, turning her around, forcefully, so he can kiss her on the mouth instead, hard. His hands stay gripped on her upper arms, first--but even that isn't enough, after a moment, and he slips one hand over to push against her breast--roughly, at first--]

[There's a gasp, just of slight surprise, and she pushes back against him - this time, she's not resisting the urge to climb him like a tree, she puts her arms around his shoulders and rises up, her body as flush against his as she can manage as she kisses him back, her hands tangling in his hair-]

[The warm close press of her body--bare skin against bare skin--slick and damp already--her fingers, twisting in his hair--he twists against the kiss, opening his mouth to hers, a little, and his fingers find her nipple and twist at it as well--a little cruelly, but just for the right sort of pain, the sort that will make her gasp, again, press even closer--because he needs her to be closer, right now, he needs her, and he puts that into the force of this kiss, the hunger of it--]

[She doesn't gasp - she whimpers and wiggles against him, pushing up on him, and one hand leaves his hair to go between his legs, to palm against him. It only lasts a moment, because she's breaking that kiss-]

Fuck me--please-

[She's not sure, not entirely, but she suspects that the please might do the trick, and not because it's polite.

Either that or it'll make him crueler, and she isn't sure what she wants more.]

[There's two instincts in him: the one comes from the prickle at the back of his neck when she says please, her body flush against his and her hand and the warmth of her breath at that desperate request--and the other comes from the thought that she wasn't desperate enough, that she can do better, beg better, he can get better out of her--

That's the one that wins out, always, because there is something cruel in Sirius, something that smirks, dark, at her, slips his hand between them to palm at her breast again--shift his hips forward, just a little, just enough so he's pressed back against her, as his fingers pinch at her nipple--]

You can beg better than that, if you want to get fucked.

[She laughs, not mockingly, and she leans up, her mouth against his ear. It takes her getting on her tiptoes to accomplish his, pulling herself up a bit against him.]

Please, let me have you, let me feel you, no one else is going to make this good for me - you know who I am, how much of a slut I am for you, so please, make me feel it-

[She uses the hand palming at him and turns it on herself, opening herself up-]

I'm hot, just for you, Sirius-

[Better, he thinks, almost imperiously, even as he shivers a little. She's good at this, she's too good, for a girl that said she doesn't go around with a lot of guys--but he doesn't care. Better that she's a slut, like she says, and that word alone makes his fingers twist again, a little, still cruel--

But he can be sweet, too. She wants it, and he could make her wait--but instead he twists to kiss her neck again, hard, and lets his hand slip from her breast--down her front, down to where her fingers have her open. Almost gently, he traces his fingers against her--wet, and warm--]

Is this what you want?

[He mutters it against her throat, but she'll be able to hear it.]

[She's had a lot of time, to listen in on people speak, to listen in on girls speak to him, and why he hasn't put that together yet she doesn't know, but it is what it is.

She whimpers against him when she feels his fingers, and moves her hand to palm him again.]

No, this is what I want-

[She can't help but rock her hips a bit, then-]

And I know, I know I don't deserve it, with my dirty blood-

[No, she doesn't believe it. It's ridiculous. But she knows it'll get him going, and she wasn't lying when she said she prefers to feel like a toy than a girlfriend.]

Edited 2013-11-14 16:24 (UTC)

[His breath catches--would have just from that push forward, from her fingers, on him--but then she keeps talking, that quiet voice, with those words, in her mouth, and that's better than anything.

He pulls his hand away, all at once, pushes her back--she's just against the side of the tub, pinned there, and that's good--he lifts at her hips, pulling her up--his gaze dark, and narrow, studying her face, the want on her face--she wants him, and he grins, possessive and pleased, and lifts her a little more, so he can push, in, one hard thrust, and a little gasp slips from between his teeth despite himself--]

[It's funny how it's like a prize for her, for all that he says he's in control, she's managed to make him abandon principles and prejudices for sex, for sex with her, with just a few well-chosen words and the prospect of a game.

Boys are the same everywhere.

She doesn't laugh, though, because then he's pushing into her and she's reaching around to put her arms on his shoulders, to give her the leverage she needs to rock against him, to whimper at the feeling of him. It takes her a moment to get her bearings, to get a rhythm-]

Yes, thank you-

[She adds it with a keen little moan, and there is a bit of a laugh there, pleased and satisfied.]

SERAPHIM DIAS | ORIGINAL

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oh my god dw i posted this YESTERDAY

DW B|

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