Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Walking on Hell ❯ Interlude - Counterpoint 1 ( Chapter 6 )
Walking on Hell
Scribblemoose
Never forget:
We walk on hell
Gazing at flowers
Issa
Interlude: Counterpoint 1
Yohji tormented himself with soft female flesh that wasn't hers. He buried his face in long hair that was nothing like hers, he breathed a scent more sultry and heady than hers had ever been. There was no way he could imagine he was making love to her.
But still he tried.
He couldn't help it. There was only one body that felt different enough, safe enough, so completely under the control of the soul who inhabited it that there could never be any mistake. And that body, that soul had deserted him, walked out on him with barely a word, just when he needed him most, just when the possibilities were wide open and scaring him rigid.
He suckled on one hard, pink nipple, cupped a soft, creamy breast in his hand. She felt good, her skin smooth, her body lean and toned. He nuzzled at her breast with his nose, whipped it lightly with his hair.
"Oh God, yeah."
She was nearly as vocal in bed as he was.
He licked a line down her stomach to her navel, and paused there, teasing her.
"Fuck, Kudoh, that tickles!"
"Good," he said. "It's supposed to." He parted her damp folds with one finger. She was wet. Fuck, was she wet. He wanted to taste her, to feel her sweet lips sliding under his tongue.
He let the rest slip away, and lost himself in her.
Soothing fingers roamed through his hair as he settled between her thighs and licked the line of her slit in one broad stroke. She was hairless except for one thick tuft at the top, so he could see how much she wanted him, her sex swollen and ripe, juicy like a peach. He licked again, pushing his tongue deeper this time, separating her inner lips, making a channel that he could follow with his finger.
Yohji never had to think very hard about giving head. His mouth loved to explore and caress and feel, and invariably whatever he wanted to do resulted in bucking hips and long moans and ultimately a very grateful person dissolving under his kisses and rewarding him with their pleasure. She tasted good, smelt good. He wallowed in her, suffused with fleeting contentment.
Her clitoris was stiff, reaching out of its swollen cowl and yearning to be touched. He licked up towards it and waited, gently stroking her thighs, forcing her to find his caress for herself. Sure enough, she bucked and writhed until the hard little shaft pushed against his tongue, groaning with the relief of wet pressure on aching flesh.
He started to lap at her, rubbing her clit first with his nose and then with his tongue, alternating between the two. He slipped two fingers inside her and twisted them around, making little clicking noises in her juices.
"Fuck, you're wet," he murmured appreciatively.
"And you're fucking hard," she said.
He realised his granite dick was pressing against the smooth sole of her foot; she moved it gently, stroking his throbbing flesh with her toes.
He sank his fingers deep inside and sought out her sweet spot, rubbed it hard. She cried out, clenching around him, and he did it again. And again. He nibbled and sucked on her clit, stroked her slick lips with his tongue and kept pressing and rubbing inside her, listening as she yelled his name, begged him not to stop and finally screamed as she came, flooding his hand and squeezing his fingers so hard he had to fight to keep them inside her.
He longed to feel that with his dick. But he forced himself to wait.
The stroking of his hair relaxed again, slowly, the trembling of her milky thighs lessened.
"Oh, fuck, Kudoh."
"Mmm." He gave her clitoris a few more lazy licks, chuckling to himself at the ticklish spasms it sent through her oversensitized body. "You taste too damn good."
She squeezed her legs together, hugging his ears with her thighs. "Your turn," she said. "What d'you want?"
Someone else.
The thought pierced his mind in an instant, taking him completely by surprise. He dismissed it swiftly, detesting it, hating himself. How could he? When she was so beautiful, so giving, so wet and juicy and there for him. What kind of bastard was he?
To punish himself he sacrificed his first desire, to have her take him in her mouth and suck and lick at him until he sprayed her face as wet and sticky as her cunt. Instead he asked for something that would make up for the betrayal she knew nothing of.
"I want to fuck you. I want to go deep inside you and fill you and make you come."
"Then fuck me."
He growled at her and crawled up her body, guiding his cock inside her with one hand, claiming her mouth with his own. She kissed him back hard, licking her own juices from his lips, and wrapped her legs around him.
She was tight, and wet, and he lost himself more with every thrust. He pulled her own hand down to touch her clit, watching her do it, controlling his breath and his pace until he felt her come around him, and then he let go. He fucked her hard and fast, encouraged by the way she was snapping her pelvis up to meet him. By the time he came she was ready to come with him, and as he emptied himself inside her in a series of long, deep thrusts, he could feel the pulse of her orgasm around him, weaker than before but still wringing a scream out of her.
He licked her neck, tracing the line of her collar bone with one finger, as his dick finished spitting semen.
He kissed her one last time, tenderly, gratefully. It wasn't her fault he felt the way he did. And she was every bit as good as he'd expected.
It wasn't her fault that good wasn't enough for him anymore.
He rolled off her and collapsed on his back. She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her handbag on the floor by the bed, lit two and passed him one. He took it gratefully, and sucked in a lungful of smoke.
"Well, Kudoh, I hate to say this, but you're every bit as good as you think you are."
He gave her a sidelong grin. "Thanks."
"Don't get carried away. I'm in the afterglow. I might change my mind by morning."
He blew a long plume of smoke towards the ceiling.
"You're not going to tell me where he is, are you Manx?"
"No," she said. "I'm not. I made a promise, Kudoh."
She turned onto her belly, resting on her elbows, one hand cupping her chin, the other holding her cigarette. Scarlet hair cascaded down her back; Yohji raked his fingers thoughtfully through the soft curls as he smoked.
She was nothing like Asuka, and nothing like Aya at all.
And for that, Yohji was grateful.
* * *
