Wank Wednesday :: Move

Today's prompt for Word Ejeculation's Wank Wednesday is Move.

Full ficlet is below the jump.

Warning: This post is NOT SAFE FOR WORK. 18+ only.

Wire :: Friday Ficlet

This began as a post for Aisling Weaver's FuckMeFriday prompt, "Wire." But it turned into something rather different. I'm posting it anyway.

...

Wire

"There are so many options," he said. As he spoke, he selected one bright bloom and then another. "Jasmine for grace and lilac for love."

She looked on, more intent on the way his hands moved that on the flowers that he chose. 

The shop was closed, leaving just the two of them, the baker's daughter and the gardener. They had nothing in common and no reason to be here.

Nothing but a love for watching things grow. 

He grazed over several groups of flowers before one seemed to strike his eye. "Ah, yes." Lifting one last clump of blossoms, he turned back to her and ran the petals from her forehead down her nose. "And a touch of sweet pea for a sweet, shy girl."

She blushed a deeper pink than all his blossoms, and the line he'd traced across her face felt hot. With his elbows braced upon his workbench, he unrolled a bit of floral wire and wrapped it around the stems.

When he was done, he held the little pink bouquet out like an offering. "Take it. It's for you."

She'd known that. And yet she hadn't. 

With one hand, she accepted it, took the flowers to her face and inhaled. As her eyes fluttered closed, she felt him take her other hand, his fingertips warm and rough. She marveled for a moment on the fact that hands so worn – so accustomed to coaxing life from dirt – could also touch so gently. That his spirit could know the cycles of the earth and the names of flowers. And how to touch a girl.

"They're beautiful," she said.

"Not as beautiful as you."

And then, as she watched, he snipped another length of wire.

The green looked strange against her skin as he wrapped it around her finger. A half dozen turns and then a loose little knot. 

He looked up again, his eyes full of questions. But he didn't have to speak them.

"Yes," she answered. Simply, "Yes."

Wank Wednesday :: Cloud on My Tongue

The first thing I thought of when I saw the #WankWednesday prompt this week was Tori Amos' Cloud on My Tongue. Lyrics by Ms. Amos are included in italics.

Warning: This post is NOT SAFE FOR WORK. 18+ only.

View : Fuck Me Friday

For Aisling Weaver's FuckMeFriday prompt.

...

View

In my mind, I lie beneath him, arms restrained above my head, my own panties in my mouth. Rough lips and teeth move up and down my skin, a finger between spread legs and then a bite against my hip. There are harsh words.

Slut. Whore. Cunt.

In my bed, I am still dressed. The hand against my clit is my own, my wrist tucked underneath the waistband of my pants, and I am close.

As they do in fantasies, the scene behind my eyes jumps erratically, escalating in a rush of touch and taking. His breath is hot beside my ear, and I rub faster, harder, to the thought of how it feels the moment that he shoves himself inside. I sneak my other hand beneath my clothes and slide a fingertip along my flesh, probing and then curling inside until my back arches, toes curling.

Pounding into me, he tells me that he's using me. That this is really all for him, so he can cum inside my worthless cunt.

"Fuck, yes," I breathe aloud. "Fuck me."

"If you wish."

My eyes snap open, my head turning to the door in horror to find him standing there, nonchalant. I start to pull my hands away, gasping hard to catch my breath, but he tsk's and shakes his head.

"No, love," he says, eyes dark, lips wet. "Keep going. Please."

"But—"

"Touch yourself. For me."

It isn't so easy now, but I obey. My eyes drift closed to try to find the space, so close to the edge, where I had hovered.

"Look at me."

With effort, I do. His gaze intent, he slides a hand across his own body to press against the line of his cock, obvious beneath his pants.

And watching him is better than imagining.

I quicken my pace to the thought of him jerking hard at himself, cock slick from fucking me. Fantasy and reality merge as he takes himself out and makes a long slow pass, fist closing around the base. And I want it.

I want it bad.

"Please," I beg.

So close...

"No," he breathes. "Just enjoy the view."

My whole body tenses, and I watch him stroke and touch, twisting at the tip to slide back down.

I know what it looks like when he comes. The way he seizes. How he seems to explode.

"Look at me."

My eyes meet his, and I feel my own body arch. The pleasure slams over me, hot waves that make scream. It is all I can do to keep my gaze on his, but it's better this way.

It's so much better when he watches me come.

"Beautiful," he whispers as I come back down. He stalks toward the bed, dick bobbing, and then climbs on top of me. Grabbing my arms, he pins my hands above my head and sinks his teeth into my neck. "My beautiful, dirty girl."

And then he makes my fantasy reality.

Listen : Fuck Me Friday

For Aisling Weaver's FuckMeFriday prompt.

...

Listen

"Did you hear that?"

He was sitting so close to me; all I could hear was his breath. "No," I whispered, giggling slightly, but then he grabbed my hand.

Squeak.

His eyes widened, and he gestured with his head toward the rooms upstairs.

Creak.

Squeak.

Creak.

"You don't think – "

His eyebrow quirked up meaningfully. "Honestly. What else do you think they're doing to make that noise."

"Ewwwww," I whined, grimacing and flipping on my back. I grabbed a cushion and crushed it to my face to try to mask the sounds. "That's my baby sister you're talking about, you know."

I felt the pillow being pulled from my hands, my mouth opening to protest, but I couldn't. Melting into his kiss, I let my wrists be pinned against the ground.

When he pulled away, it was with a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Well, if you don't want to hear them...," he intoned.

I pulled him back down, smirking against his mouth. "Then I guess we'd better make some noise of our own."

Fawn : Fuck Me Friday

Another stab at Aisling Weaver's FuckMeFriday prompts.

...

Fawn
 

I watch the way you look at them, your eyes on her hand as she feeds him, your brow creasing as she simpers.

Fawns.

Placing my hand on your thigh beneath your skirt, close to the rope you wear beneath your clothes, I lean in close to whisper in your ear, "Down, Pet."

You automatically still, relaxing all the corners of your face.

You do not need to serve me openly or to flaunt what you are.

We know.

Across the table, she giggles, but this time you don't frown. This time, your mouth creeps up into a secret smile.

And I can't wait til we get home so I can fuck it off your face.

Cream : Fuck Me Friday

Another stab at Aisling Weaver's FuckMeFriday prompts.

...

Cream

It was the little white dot on her nose.

She set the carton down before looking around to see if she'd been caught drinking cream from the carton before adding it to the bowl. She didn't see me. So the mixer was already whirring, her gaze intent on its contents when I placed my hands on either side of her against the counter, my body just a breath away from hers.

So slowly, I ran my lips along the side of her neck and felt her shiver before I opened my mouth at the corner of her jaw. "Lapping up the cream?"

"Just a sip," she whispered.

"My little kitten." I grazed one hand down her front to cup her just between her legs. "My sweet little pussy."

"Yours."

With my other hand, I tipped her face back, exposing her lips for my kiss. From the way she breathed, I thought she wanted it hard, but instead I gave her soft. Slow. Teasing.

"Kitty likes her cream?"

"Yes."

I licked the drop off of her nose.

"Good," I murmured. My hand reached down to open up my pants. "Then get down on your knees and drink."

Pin : Fuck Me Friday

Aisling Weaver is kind enough to post prompts every Friday on her site. Just for fun I thought I'd give it a go.

...

Pinned

I used to hate when he would pin me down. It felt too vulnerable, too weak, and I would stiffen up. And not in the way that he'd intended.

He was just affectionate, I reminded myself. Tactile. He liked to wrestle, and nothing turned him on more than when we ran around together on the rugby field, pretending to just be friends while we worked up a sweat.

The way he'd fuck me when we got home on days like that...

"Hey, where'd you go?" he asked, there on top of me, his cock against mine, his face so close that I could feel him breathe. I could count the pores on his nose and the see the texture of his irises.

I could feel his hands on my shoulders. His knees on my thighs.

Pinned.

Suddenly, all the thoughts of his body, sweaty after a game, retreated again to the other thoughts. The bad ones.

I could feel other hands. They hurt.

It was just a flash. A memory. Something I had gotten past. Or at least that's what I told myself.

I forced myself back to the here and now, to lying on my bed beneath my lover instead of helpless in a field.

"Nowhere," I croaked, forcing a smile as I focused on his eyes. I felt like I might vomit. "I'm right here."

"No you're not," he insisted, one hand letting my arm go, and I felt blood rush back to the skin there. Tenderly, he touched the side of my face, leaning down to kiss my lips. I couldn't quite bring myself to open them, just like I'd never managed to open up in other ways. To tell him what it reminded me of when he held me down this way instead of gritting my teeth and waiting for him to let me go.

Still, the kisses came, soft, sweet ones all along the corners of my mouth and up my cheeks. Remembering the difference between then and now, my body began to relax, my free hand coming up to touch his where it was still heavy on my bicep.

"Let go," I whispered.

"I will." He nodded and pressed his lips to just below my ear. "Someday, I hope you do, too."