((OOC Note/Warning: This post contains sexual themes, and as such is not for younger readers. If you dislike graphic, rough or explicit sexual scenes, please feel free not to read. Do not complain to me about it. You were warned.))
That night, it wasn’t different to any others before it. Not in any obvious way. At least not to anybody looking in. She’d had a hell of a ride over recent months, but there were very few who knew even the half of it. Why should they or would they want or need to know? She’d lost loved ones, friends and colleagues. She’d lost her sense of self. But for the persistence that always remained where loss was an ever present constant, she’d gained so much more than she’d ever hoped or dreamed. For once, the tables seemed to have turned.
And then, there he was. Her love, her protector, standing beside her, his presence breaking her out of her reverie. And nothing else mattered. Only the absolute present. Him, her, this moment. Right now. Everything before it paled into insignificance and everything to come would be an open eyed journey, an adventure, an ever constant path forward, even with it’s twists and turns, and for now, that was all that mattered. She was more than equipped to deal with whatever life threw at her.
He didn’t say anything at first, he said very little anyway, but he did offer his arm to her as he always did, following her gaze upwards to the stars. The arcane familiar slid towards her noiselessly, attaching itself to her ankle, and Ana smiled.
“He missed you, you know.” The man finally spoke, nothing more, nothing less.
Ana’s eyes remained upwards, and she murmured.
“Was he the only one, I wonder.”
The man looked at her for a moment then, and simply nodded.
Guarded, stoic, morbidly serious. She often found herself looking at the man she had married at times and wondered how in the world it had even happened. He wasn’t emotionless, he was capable of showing her affection, of giving it, of receiving it, and she didn’t fear him really, but she’d always found herself tiptoeing around him, carefully trying to read his cues, his voice, his body language. But there was nothing. The words that he spoke to her when he chose to were all the right ones, and she didn’t doubt his sincerity, by any means, but still there were times when she just wanted to shake him and scream at him to get angry, to show frustration, to react to something, anything.
Gods, Kaeth, must you always speak as if you are addressing a formal audience? I’m your wife!
She didn’t scream at him right then, but she did roll her eyes somewhat, a small sigh following and she turned to him suddenly, a step closer, placing herself right in front of him. She wanted him, she wanted a reaction, and she wanted it now. This wouldn’t wait until they were outside the city, at home, or any other place. It had to be now.
“What must I do to get you alone, right now?” She whispered in her husband’s ear, “I want you. I need you.”
He reacted to the question with a kiss, but no words right away. Her eyes closed when he lifted her head to kiss him, and moments later, she moaned lowly against his lips, pressing herself instinctively closer to him. She slipped her arm around his waist, and glanced around quickly. They were alone, the streets of the city empty at this time of the morning but they were still out in the open. Leaning her forehead against his chest, she murmured.
“There’s a … room nearby.”
She didn’t wait for a response, not this time, but simply took his hand and led him across the tiles and into the room which during daylight hours would have had a whole other purpose.
A sharp inhale of breath, followed by a low moan which she attempted to stifle by biting her lip as he pushed her against the wall face first. She pushed her ass back into him as his hands ran up the front of her and she swayed her hips back and forth a couple of times, rubbing herself against his growing arousal, and she arched her back as much as she was able, sliding a hand back and between them to run her fingers over his hard length, squeezing at him through the cloth that still concealed it.
Her forehead leaned against the wall, she turned, her cheek pressing against it, and she bit lightly on the fingers of one hand, anything in an effort to keep quiet. She fumbled at the fastenings on her leggings, pressing herself back into him, willing her fingers to move quickly. A sense of urgency, being here. But she wouldn’t, she couldn’t wait for him until they got home. It had to be now. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pants she slipped them down to just underneath her ass, and then reached back to tug at his belt, urging him to do the same.
She squeezed her thighs together, a low whimper as he brushed his cock along her ass, and she began to rock her hips again in anticipation, the heated moisture of her own arousal pooling between her thighs. She ached for him, literally, and she ran her tongue between her lips again, arching her back more and spreading her legs apart to open herself to him as he slid himself between her legs. Reaching back, she curled a hand around him, intending to guide him inside her if he would take her slowly.
And he did, at first, but slowly was not how he intended to proceed, or gently, as he quickly found his rhythm. She pressed her face into the wall again, clawing at it with one hand, the other, balled into a fist she bit down on as he pushed himself in her, a little at a time. Clenching her ass cheeks when he slapped her only served to make everything tense and her inner walls would contract around him, offering inadvertent resistance to his intrusion of her body. Maybe that was what he had intended, but she whimpered, still. He was not a small man, not by any means. If anything, he was a little too large and even after all this time, every time he fucked her it would be hard to take, at least at first. One hand, fingers splayed on the wall, she reached down with her other to toy with herself before settling that hand on the wall as well, pushing her ass further back, arching her back almost unnaturally to allow him the easiest position to fuck her, and where she would be able to attempt to take him fully.
She almost lost the ability to be quiet at all, or even attempt to be once he started to pull on her hair, forcing her head back as he began to thrust in and out of her more aggressively. And with each thrust a growl escaped his throat that just increased her need for him and it … oh Gods, he felt so good. She would be sore, she would be so sore later, but it would be worth it. He slapped her ass again, and she tensed and contracted around him again with no control over it and this time she cried out loudly, a half cry, half whimper. She had received pleasure before, that was no lie, but never had she felt so out of control as when with him, when he sought to assert his physical dominance over her, to remind her that at any moment, even when and if she ever thought she was in control, that it was him that was. And she would submit. She did, every time. He would merely look at her in such a way that she would do anything he asked, at times, and never more so than when he was fucking her. That voice, that sinful voice. She whimpered, again and opened her mouth to say something, but nothing coherent would form now except more whimpers and moans.
Another cry as he struck her ass, hard, followed by a long loud moan as he slipped his fingers inside her mouth, restricting the movement of her head and tongue, inhibiting her ability to speak although this is what he demanded. She tried to shake her head a little, to resist it, garbling words that made no sense and the motion itself would threaten to make her gag, and she bit down on his fingers, not hard, but half in frustration, but there was nothing else going on in her mind now but raw, pure, physical need, and the harder he thrust into her, the louder the sounds of their sex became, the smacking wet sounds as he slammed into her, caused her to begin to move, to rock back and forth, meeting his every blow, every deliciously painful inch of him pounding her over and over again. It hurt so good, and she would lose any awareness of where they were, the only thing filling her senses as well as her body the sounds and the smell of their primal union. It was likely the perspiration of her own body. She was burning up with arousal, literally, every inch of her form beaded with heat and sweat. She would tell him, if she was able, how much she loved him, how much she loved his cock. That he owned her, and to keep reminding her of that, over and over.
Whether it was his teeth sinking into her ear or his heated breath on her face, her movements held, increasing in speed a little if anything, meeting his every brutal blow, because there was no way this was gentle. There was an animalistic nature about this fucking. It was a fucking, nothing more, nothing less. And she’d needed it, she always needed him, but this … almost punishing her with his primal and aggressive urges right now spurred by her own would keep her satisfied until she was able to actually walk again properly. His fingers pressing down on her tongue actually made her gag this time, and his voice in her ear, hissing at her viciously to be quiet only served to spur her on more. She couldn’t speak, she could only garble nonsense. He was hers, and she was his. The tone of his voice would push her over the edge of what had been so close anyway. Her body began to tremble, and within moments was actually shuddering quite violently as she clawed at the wall with both hands, her legs losing any sense of being able to hold her at all as the orgasm took over, and she closed her teeth on his fingers, taking a breath to keep quiet in earnest now for if she was to open her mouth, her cries would alert anyone that was anywhere even close to the vicinity as she squeezed her thighs together, tightening her grip on him as her inner walls contracted violently, gripping and squeezing his swollen cock so that it was actually painful, but she rode it, every last second of it.
Weakness, that moment of weakness in his voice when he could no longer hold back his own release, the sounds of his own pleasure, it was like music to her ears. She felt him harden and throb inside her, filling her with his thick seed, and she inwardly cringed only for a moment at the mess she would have to dress herself over until she got home, but at the same time, the thought of walking out of this room afterwards and through the city filled with his cum made her smirk a little. She felt dirty. It felt good. “You, “she finally murmured through her erratic breathing, “are amazing.”
And when she finally turned around, when he’d relinquished his hold on her enough for her to do so, something was different. Was he actually smiling?