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spinny roses

That Which Happens


"I had always known you would be beautiful."

My breath catches as he nibbles on my neck. Everything is still so new to me. The feel of fabric against my skin, the hair all over my body, every little touch... all of it is fascinating and slightly erotic.

He has large, callused hands. Killing hands. They unbutton my shirt calmly as he looks down at me with his steady and intense eyes. He's so kind with me, someone who has performed the sin of alchemy countless times. I see that he cannot forget it, though he tries as he kisses me.

My hands are too unsteady, too clumsy. I want to caress his hair, but my fingers poke the scarred skin around his eyes. A flinch, but he doesn't pull away. He pulls my shirt down slightly, lips tasting all of me.

It's so strange. My pants feel so tight... is it an erection? My hands are tingling and my blood runs hot. It feels wonderful and horrible and satisfying and unfinished all at the same time. As he laps at a nipple, I want him to stop, to continue, harder, softer...

He doesn't seem to understand the half-formed words falling from my mouth. The confuse him and his tasting slows. I wiggle my hips, gasping as my groin brushes his leg.

It seems like he knows now, and starts to undo my pants. He's working quickly, almost unable to bear it himself, but it feels so slow. So teasing. He lifts my erection out, the feeling of those calluses on my sensitive skin causing me to let out a high pitched whine. It just feels so good.

His mouth feels better.

He starts by licking. He licks all over, paying extra attention to the tip and the texture of the skin there. His hands stroke me slightly as he practically swallows me, and it's so hot and wet and...

When the orgasmic shudders fade, I notice dimly that he didn't swallow it. Instead, his lips are on mine, kissing me deeply and sharing my ejection. It's not a particularly good taste, but it seems as if he enjoys the taste of it more in my mouth than in my skin. He strokes my chest again, streaking wet white streaks down my body.

I feel marked... no, possessed. The show of ownership streaking my body... my first orgasm his and his alone...

He seems to like it. I see the bulge in his pants, and reach out to bring him as well.

"No, little one. Tonight is for your beautiful body." And he reaches down again, fingers brushing past hypersensitive skin.

He intends to have my seed cover his hand constantly this night. A killing hand, covered in what could cause life.

The irony in all things.

The thought arouses me greatly, though it's too soon to tell. His hands lightly stroke me, taking delight in the feel of my skin. I curse having a male body at this time, remembering my research and that females could start towards orgasm in as short a time as seconds.

His fingers stroke my thighs now, not trying to arouse me but rather just feeling my skin. The white streaks become longer, more possessive. I want it to be his, instead of being marked by my own semen. He leans down again, however, and laps the seed off my thighs.

Oh.

I squirm as he takes obvious delight in all my tastes. My blood runs hot and centers around a stirring erection. He seems to ignore it and licks down to my feet. I reach down to the short hair, impatient, and try to haul him up so he can take care of what's important.

He just laughs, and takes one of my hands. His lips gently kiss the inside of my wrist, and a scalding tongue flicks out to touch that skin. He traces the veins in my wrist and hand with that heated tongue, eyes focused on my groin than my face. It's known that this arouses me to no end by the sounds I make. He's obviously waiting for something...

He kisses my palm, then reaches between my legs. He slowly starts to stroke me, tease me. I writhe and turn and cuss (all words I learned from my brother and his "short" rants), not wanting to be teased.

I notice his other hand, the normal hand, doing something. I look to see what, and am slightly surprised when I see two fingers liberally coated with a thick and slippery liquid. I try to understand what he will be doing when he slips the fingers between my legs and lower.

There... yes... he strokes my rear gently, barely pressing a finger in. He's trying more to lubricate than to bring pleasure with that hand, allowing on the tattooed hand to be the one causing me to be aroused. I'm not sure if he wants to enter me... he doesn't seem to be undoing his pants, but rather just using his finger. He said tonight was for me... what ever that means.

I think I know, as he presses the finger in deeper. My orgasms tonight, my body twisted in pleasure... The finger slides in and out, searching each thrust against me to find the most pleasurable spot. It's not painful, not completely. There's quite a bit of pleasure tacked onto that feeling, though it's a very strange and almost pained sensation. He is still searching for a very responsive spot when my body tightens and I orgasm again.

I love the sight of my orgasm on his hand.