comment with your character's name and canon in the subject header. use rng or pick one of the options below for your au scenario.
I. living conditions
01. my roommate’s boyfriend is staying over so can I please sleep on your floor 02. all our friends are drunk 03. we live in halls opposite one another and i keep seeing you change in the window please close your blinds 04. you’re the RA and you’re trying to bust me for having hermit crabs 05. you’re baking cookies in the communal kitchen at 3am and I’m angry but also really hungry 06. clearly we’re both really uncomfortable at this party 07. you peed on my car. you were drunk. I was in the car. there will be hell to pay. 08. my friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex quick make out with me 09. sorry my roommate puked on your shoes 10. my roommate borrowed your contraband hotpot and managed to set it on fire
II. chance meeting
01. it’s pouring and my final paper is in my backpack so I guess we’re stuck under this tiny awning together. do you think they’d deliver pizza here 02. waiting outside for pizza to be delivered but both of ours is super late 03. I know I keep coming to this [cookie/coffee/etc.] shop and for some reason it’s always your shift but don’t you dare judge me I need this for my sanity 04. I found your USB drive still in the computer (and potentially regret finding out what's on it) 05. you decked me in the head while you were playing frisbee golf 06. your school mailbox is right next to mine 07. what do you mean we’re under a tornado warning?
III. campus community
01. I’m really passionate about this cause and I will give you this flier if I have to shove it down your throat 02. it’s 3 am and I’m still in the library studying for finals and I’m losing my grip on reality and I think I just saw a ghost 03. we’re the only two people in this club. what is this club even for 04. humans vs zombies, all bets are off, friendships mean nothing 05. I thought I was the only one who liked the waffle station in the cafeteria 06. we’re studying in the library and there are two people very obviously fucking in the stacks and we keep sharing embarrassed glances 07. what are you doing at this table at the career fair 08. I saw you sneaking captain crunch and cutlery out of the dining hall 09. my computer crashed and you’re the student worker at the IT center 10. we’re both on athletic teams that aren’t as cool as the football team and they give us shit 11. you’re part of the guerrilla theatre club on campus and crashed my class for a performance
IV. credit hour woes
01. hey I have to [photograph/draw blood/film/insert major here] someone for class, will you be my guinea pig 02. we’re the only people who ever talk in discussions it’s awful 03. group project 04. both of us turned up to the wrong room for this lecture and neither of us know where it's supposed to be 05. we’re both donating blood in the blood donation van in the quad to get out of the same class 06. wait, I actually have a competent lab partner? 07. waiting for office hours 08. we started racing up the three flights of stairs to class for some reason and we can’t stop 09. vicious battle over the only left handed desk in the room
V. limited resources
01. you keep using my preferred shower stall in the floor bathrooms when I’m trying to get ready for class 02. you keep parking in the space outside my student house you absolute asshole 03. you're the only person in the room when i break the printer and i'm panicking (so don't be a dick about it please) 04. neither of us bought the expensive textbook but there is only one copy in the library and it can’t leave the building 05. this awesome professor only has one TA slot and we’re rivals 06. you keep reserving the good study room in the corner of the library with the windows 07. I’ve been sitting in this seat all semester why did you decide to sit in it today 08. you’re REALLY GOOD at using the right search terms for the academic databases and I’m on a deadline 09. we’re always at the fitness center at the same time and end up competing on the treadmill 10. can I borrow a dryer sheet? I ran out and the ones in the vending machine give me a rash
[ Her disappointment feels like a splash of cold water across his face. He sits back, withdrawing from her, and uneasy guilt begins gnawing its way through his stomach. Perhaps coming together alone like this, playing at the overtures of a date, had been a poor plan top to bottom. It was a means of taunting them with what they did not have.
The result only leaves him feeling like more of a failure. The atmosphere between them cools. He goes quiet for a moment. There it is. The quintessential Ben Solo failure of a date, carried across the finish line in total, uncomfortable silence. ]
Come with me.
[ He gets to his feet, thinking maybe if he shows her the rest of what he has considered in the one (1) minute he spent developing this idea, then she'll be … what? Placated? It's still not going to be what she wants. While he had contented himself with what they could actually have access to, Rey seems to maintain a constant thread of hope to push it further.
That's a dangerous thing, really. It will harm them both in the long run. But he is too enamored by it to be put off. Ben touches her shoulder, then leads the way back into his bedroom. Inside he gestures for the foot of the bed, encouraging her to — ] Sit. Please.
[ He rolls the words around in his mind, trying to figure out how to articulate himself. ]
I will never tire of watching you. [ Let's start there. That seems like a good place to start. ] I had hoped to be able to get closer to you. My vantage, in the past, has left much to be desired. However, I think I may have a compromise that will … [ Hm. ] Not alleviate your disappointment, but temper it.
[ He goes to his nightstand then and opens the drawer to produce a pair of gleaming metal handcuffs. They clink as he loops his finger through one of the cuffs and the chain drops to let the other one dangle as he turns back towards her. ]
I will not touch you. I think it would be better if we maintained that boundary. But if you would like to use me … [ He swallows thickly again, a heat rising in his neck and ears. He's turning slightly pink with it, but he soldiers ahead. She had wanted to pin him down and take what she wanted, after all. ] You may tease and punish me and take what friction you want from me. I only ask that you do not undress me.
[ Doubt that, she had been prepared to sullenly say. Childishly, she wants to cling to that, toss it in his face that she won't be soothed by so little. The words die, however, when the scant slip of light that cascades beyond his bedroom's blinds catches on the glinting silver of what he's dangling between his fingers. Her rapt interest is too obvious, curiously tracking its movements, and then rising to study the tint of embarrassed pink to his complexion.
She has a million and one questions, not least of all a nosy need to know why he has a pair of handcuffs tucked away in his nightstand. Common sense informs her that he must have used them before, perhaps recently; her gut curdles unpleasantly at the thought, makes her feel more miserable to know that he has touched other women freely but denies her the same pleasure frequently.
In contrast, she's never taken the initiative to bind anyone. Considered implementing it, yes, but she has never trusted another so faithfully as to offer herself. Her partners have ostensibly lacked the same comfort; understandably, those types of casual sexual arrangements hadn't left for that much exploration and investment, and she had ended them as to not confuse fondness for sex as fondness for her partners.
It's different with Ben. She leans forward from where she's seated at the end of the bed to grasp the other end of the handcuffs, running her thumb over the cold material. Her frown still hasn't faded. ]
My disappointment hasn't been tempered. [ Time to get that out of the way. It's probably a brutal mishandling of his feelings to be so honest about that, but she's not selfless enough to spare him that. To allow him the illusion that this makes up for his refusal to touch her (ever, she's beginning to suspect). It won't. ] I'm not going to pretend that it is or that it ever will be. Honestly, this is more of a punishment for me than it is for you.
[ He's the one that doesn't want to touch her, after all, when she's done everything in her willpower to convince him. While she suffers through that, he doesn't seem at all perturbed by not having his hands on her. Affected, but not upset. Not disappointed. Not frustrated. It doesn't go a long way toward making her feel desirable, but — ]
But I'm interested. [ Before he thinks she's blatantly rejecting his proposal. She isn't. ] I want to. And it's all you'll give me.
[ Obviously. She sounds noticeably deflated by that, but she perseveres, standing, and moves to take them more fully from him. ]
Never before has he ever heard such an underwhelming acceptance of sexual activity. Frankly, he should be complimented that she wants his cock so badly as to be moody and unpleasant in resigning herself to anything else. But he can't bring himself to be. Instead he remains disappointed with himself for being unable to fulfill her clearly stated needs.
For that reason, when she tugs at the cuffs, they don't immediately come out of his hand. He frowns, studying her. No matter what allowance he tries to make, no matter how he softens his boundaries, he cannot seem to make her happy.
He's made a mess of this. Like he made a mess of all things. Better, he thinks, would have been to hold off confronting her. Or offering her help. Or texting her. All of those tiny slips had allowed for this one, had slid them straight into a hard boundary that he could not violate — not for ethics. No, no matter how Rey felt on the subject, he did not entertain the notion that he was anything but a bad man. But for practicality. He had his job to consider, and he now had Rey's safety to consider too.
He gives up the cuffs to her, but the anticipation has gone out of it. Popped like a balloon. He had worked himself up, thinking that maybe allowing her power over him within limits would make this better. It hadn't. Now it feels like it meant nothing. ]
It doesn't sound like you want to. [ He huffs out a sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose, and then paces the short distance towards his bathroom, turning back towards her only once he has reached the doorway. ] I don't understand what you expect from me.
[ That reaffirmation emerges in a panic, and no matter how pathetic it is to nip at his heels like a lost puppy, she tracks him those small steps. Doing so logically prevents him from closing the door in her face and ordering her out, subsequently shutting the door on the start of — well, this. But most of her distress is of her own making, she decides; he had been willing to give her that much, and she's squandered it, fucked it up beyond all recognition and put him off in the process.
She only barely keeps herself from begging him not to disappear into the bathroom and leave her alone, from imploring him to forget what she's said and plead with him to go along with his original suggestion. The truth is that she does want it, even if it is a poor substitute for what he won't give her, but she can't ward off the nagging paranoia in her brain that he doesn't want her. That he will never want her as viciously as she wants him.
Her expectations had risen, muddled this as meaning more than it must. She'd been mistaken, she thinks. First, in assuming this had been a date of any sort; now, in presuming that his allowance for touch encompassed all aspects of a potential relationship, that he had come to terms with his desire for her as she had with him. ]
I want you. [ It's the simplified, SparkNotes version. ] My expectation was that you wanted me back, but you won't touch me. You won't kiss me. You obviously kept these — [ here, she jingles the handcuffs in front of him for emphasis. ] — in your bedside drawer for a reason. Which means you'll have sex with other women, but not with me. With me, you'll only watch.
[ It's a leap in logic, admittedly, but her brain keeps getting stuck on that one fact. He planned to have these on hand for any encounters, clearly. Within his reach if he needed them at hand. It bothers her beyond the possessive clench in her abdomen. ]
What's so wrong with me that you don't want me?
[ Keeping herself from getting choked up as she delivers that question is impossible. Vulnerable as it is, she can't repress it. That's what it has to be, she's decided. She's good enough to watch, to keep from a distance, but he isn't interested in touching her himself. There has to be something about her that's disgusting, distasteful, for him to allow her to dry hump him like a teenager but nothing more. ]
[ That comes out first, an immediate correction. The most important, he thinks. So important that it stops him chewing the inside of his cheek, holding himself back from interrupting her. Only once it's out does he draw closer to her. He raises his hands to rest them on her shoulders — hesitates markedly, as though he thinks that closeness will only contribute, make it harder. He does it anyway. Yes, Ben settles his palms decidedly on he shoulders. Now, while she is on the brink of tears over this, it is important to give into that urge.
Any others would be irresponsible, though they hover near the surface of his thoughts. The urge to throw her back onto his bed now, fuck all his boundaries, and bury himself inside of her to show her just how badly he wants her. To lose himself in her and forget the rest of the goddamn world for a while. To let none of it matter. That sets a bad precedent. It would be worse, he thinks, to give into it only to take it away again. ]
Do not mistake my efforts to control myself for a lack of desire. [ His expression twists with the effort of repressing the emotion that threatens to surface. He doesn't know how to let it eek out when it's always been used against him. ] There is nothing wrong with you, Rey. It's killing me how badly I want you. If it weren't, I would have no need to offer you the cuffs in the first place.
[ He struggles to keep his voice level as he says it. There's a thick quality to it, not quite hoarse, but rough. Low. ]
The women that I have used those on were not my students. And I invited none of them to restrain me. [ Control, as he had already told her, was essential to him. A point she had apparently overlooked in her fear of being unwanted. He cannot blame her for that, given what he has made her feel, but that intimacy felt like a big compromise from his end, so he reiterates it here. ]
Believe me. Seven weeks from now, God himself will not be able to stop me from fucking you every way I can. It will not be an evening date. It will be several days of the two of us destroying each other in every way two people can.
Until then, I am trying to resist jeopardizing my position with the university. [ he gestures to the handcuffs in her hand and admits, ] Poorly. It is a testament to how badly I want you that I have allowed it to go this far.
[ Oh. In the face of all he has said, all he has rectified, it sounds so daft. And she feels she must appear the part, too, reaching for words that won't immediately come. Frozen with her new comprehension, her lips take the shape of a perfect o for an inordinate amount of time until she recovers.
When she does, she looks abashed. Part of her still wants to repeat that she had misunderstood, defensive, prepared to insist she hadn't intentionally pressured him — but he isn't holding her in contempt, and so she relaxes beneath the grip he has on her shoulders. More than relaxes. She presses her face into his chest briefly, breathing in the unique scent of clean detergent and Ben, and takes a few more calming inhales and exhales.
When she does emerge from his sternum, the splotchy quality to her complexion can't be blamed on tears. Thankfully, those have evaporated, but now she's left humiliated for revealing that vulnerable underbelly so quickly. Wrongly exposed, at that, when she's misconstrued so drastically.
Embarrassing. On top of that, she's fairly certain she's screwed everything up. Cockblocked herself viciously. ]
Good. [ ? ? ? She's judging herself for only being able to mutter that much, but there's an upturn to her lips that comes dangerously close to a smile. But it is good, and she does sound breathless with relief, that he does want her in return. ] I'd be the first, then?
[ Pulling back, she dangles the handcuffs in front of him, more alight with the idea. Now that she no longer has to contend with that overwhelming insecurity, nor the unwelcome picture of him involved with someone else, ]
Do you still want to try?
[ There's something shy in that. Bold as she has been, she isn't unaware that she's likely been Too Much for him to handle, and a rejection is entirely possible. She can only hope she hasn't ruined the appeal of that idea for him so strongly that he can't find arousal in it. ]
[ When her head tips against his sternum, one of his hands moves up into her hair, tousling it. Another reason to like it down like this, he thinks, but he doesn't offer it up. Not when she has just gotten done admitting how sensitive she is to whether or not he wants her as she is. God, how could she not see that she was too good for him in every way? An exceptional student on merit, not name. Honest. Hard-working. Beautiful. Good. ]
You will be the first.
[ He assures her of that, his hands falling to his sides. He glances at his bed briefly, then back at the door out into his living room. ]
Would you prefer to tie me on the bed with you, or in my office chair?
[ It had been her fantasy, after all. Breaking him on that thing. He might not be giving her the full reins of actual penetration, but she might be able to break it nonetheless. It would also free up space for her to sprawl out more on the bed if his long legs weren't kicking down the length of it. He's keenly aware of how much space he can take up.
The question really centers on how much of it she wants to be an intimate performance and how much she wants to grind herself on him, in all fairness. The chair would be more comfortable if she wanted to be on her own, showing herself to him. But the bed would be more accessible if she meant to rub herself off against his cock.
As though he has spoken its name, the blood rushing downward gives a hearty pulse then, a warning that it's filling and he'd better not fuck it over for a third time today. Or would this be the fourth? ]
[ The intense part of her wants to iterate first and only, but she bites it down, unaware of where that thought stemmed from. No, she knows its origins — possessiveness, plain and simple — but she has no true claim to him beyond casual dating. She has to remind herself of that to curb the intensity, at least verbally. ]
You'll find out.
[ Denying him access to her strategy (that she has, in true Rey fashion, concocted in no less than five seconds) shouldn't qualify as 'punishment', but it is a means of keeping him on his toes. Assuming control, reminding him that she has the authority to steer them as she pleases. She leans up, then, pressing her lips just barely against his — a distraction technique as she grips both of his arms and guides them behind them, clasping the handcuffs around him with some fumbling.
Maybe that inelegance makes it apparent she hasn't done this before, but she doesn't stop to remind him of that. He trusts her. Her inexperience shouldn't factor in. From there, she pulls back to use his belt loops to lead him, too impatient to pretend she isn't eager to get him into position for herself — though it does take some shifting to, as carefully as she can manage in her haste, encourage him to sit on the edge of the bed.
Rey is far from the striptease type, too practical and too greedy to take her time teasing in that way. Quick and fast has always been her way, though those entanglements haven't ever truly allowed for more when she has always obviously been scratching an itch, chasing an end goal. But she steps away from him to unbutton her jeans, unzip them as slowly as her willpower will allow, and ease them over her hips, down her legs.
There's no sexy way to disrobe out of jeans, she's discovered as she steps out of them, but. A+ for trying. ]
I'll save your office chair for when I get to ride your cock like it's mine. [ Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties, but she doesn't slide them downward, only toys with the waistband. ] Because it is, Ben. It's mine. Isn't it?
[ That her arms can barely circle around him to guide his hands together behind his back to clasp them in the cuffs only makes it more of a submission. She's not a small girl, but next to him, she's tiny. And he's broad and thick and towering, and yet he's the one who winds up with his wrists fastened behind him. His breathing slows, but grows heavier. Keeping him calm as the flood of heat does battle with the chill of his anxiety.
She nudges him to a sitting position, and he looks up at her like she's the sun, something to be orbited, obeyed, something which compels him. The answer to her question is surely obvious there. If not, it's becoming gradually obvious in his pants as his cock twitches to respond to her, filling with blood. He's not all the way hard yet, but watching her strip down is getting him there. Even with the misstep of her jeans. It makes it real. It makes it her.
His eyes linger where her thumbs press into the elastic of her waistband, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his breath heaving in his chest. He regrets his boundaries now. Wants her to strip him down so he can feel her skin against his. Wants the promise of her riding his cock, wants to see how her tits and her hair bounce. He's dreamed of that since he watched Dameron fuck her. ]
Yours. [ His mouth is dry, but he answers her with an eager nod. He's a fucking goner for her. It's never been a question. ] Just yours.
[ Which is why he wants to beg her to touch it, put those pretty lips on it, take it inside her sweet cunt, but he can't. He can't because he knows she will, and if they don't set boundaries of some kind, they'll have none, and he'll be fired.
He's not used to this end of it. Searching her expression, briefly, he has to do some mental math — what kinds of things he would want to hear because he's otherwise struck speechless. So far out of his element. But he wants her to see how he needs her, wants her to know she's doing so well. ]
My cock was made for you, Rey. [ This time there's no mistaking how ragged his voice is with want. ] Can't wait to be buried in your sweet cunt. Please. Show me. Let me see you.
[ He begs so sweetly that it plucks at a chord at her. Her mercy, more aptly. Please rings around in her mind, cunt clenching down around nothing in a heady, throbbing rush of desire, and she finds herself tugging her underwear down the expanse of muscular, tanned legs until she thinks better of it. Show me, he'd said. He isn't the one in a position to make demands, but he has framed it in a manner that prostrates himself. Submissive, needy. That's what ultimately provokes her into turning, back to him, as she bends down to remove her panties fully.
The view only affords him a glance, a sneak peek at the pink, glistening triangle between her thighs where she's grown wet in record time. But it feels worth it when she turns back around where he remains on the bed, helpless but reverential. Trusting, yearning for her as she feared he wouldn't. That reaffirmation is what she needs to sustain herself through these next weeks, wearing down her fingers and her toy with how feverish she is. With how she wants to bury him inside her until he comes, and continue even past that, lock him inside of her and never relinquish the power she has over him.
It's intoxicating. She had imagined it might be, but she hadn't been prepared for the full magnitude of it. She hasn't so much as touched him or herself and she's flushed a glowing red, chest heaving, more noticeable when she shucks off her sweater with little preamble to stand nude before him. Rather than feel exposing, it only feels — empowering, confident with the knowledge that he finds her so enticing that he would subject himself to this, place himself in that position. ]
I'm giving these to you. [ Dangling from her fingertip is that scrap of underwear. Her good underwear, surprisingly. The only good pair that isn't worn out cotton. Planting her hand beside him on the bed, she leans in to tuck them inside of the pocket of his trousers, mouthing at the pulse in his neck as she does so. He mostly tastes clean, soap with a small tang of sweat. ] For being so good. And —
[ She moves to his ear, brushing aside locks of hair to mouth at the shell of it. They're practically satellite dishes, but it's cute. Endearing. Quickly, she decides she likes them. ]
I'm hoping you'll wrap them around your cock the next time you think of me. Cover them in cum while you're thinking about filling my cunt with it until I'm dripping. [ Hoarse, her voice drops, lips skimming his lobe with each consonant. Her other hand raises, chastely soothing for how it smooths through his hair while she's muttering filth. ] Can you do that for me, Ben?
[ Drinking in the brief glimpse she gives him is enough to get him straining-against-his-pants hard. Poking out of his boxers to strain against his zipper hard. When she leans in, his hips practically jerk up into her off-target touch. It's undignified. Ostensibly messy, even pathetic. But he bites down on the whimpered noise he wants to make as he aches for her touch. Ben swallows it and licks his lips after, surprised to find how desperate he is, how hard he's already breathing.
It's her, he decides. She's the only one who can make him like this. Hard, desperate, ready to pop in his pants at the sound of her voice. He tilts his head for her and, for the first time, the feeling of lips on his ears doesn't immediately send him into a spiral of insecurity about how large they are. Instead he just finally relinquishes that moan he'd tried to hold back.
Fuck, if she'd let his hands free, he'd tug one off into her panties right now. It wouldn't take long. He'd sit humiliated in the mess of his own come and thank her for the chance. Pathetic. He's pathetic. It keeps circling in his thoughts, as though caught around a drain. This is the hazard of giving himself over, submitting himself — accepting that he's just as worthless and simpering as Snoke has made him feel like he is.
For some reason, though, Rey doesn't think so. It burns some of the ugliness away. ]
Yes. Thank you.
[ He rasps that out first. It comes easier now. Easier than the rest had. His cock throbs. Pulses with need, a desperate cry for attention, and he groans, shifting where he sits. It's not properly situated in his pants. It hurts more like this, sticking out, tenting his pants. He hadn't thought of that before he'd let her cuff him. ]
Can't wait to smell your sweet pussy. [ If she doesn't think he's gonna bury his face in them first, she's got another thing coming. He's seen so much of her, but the rest of his senses have been denied. Even the feel of her fingers threading in his hair is overwhelming. ] I'll make it feel so good. I promise. I'll make you come until you can't walk. Then I'll fill you up and tie you to this bed and pump you full of my cum, make you keep it inside of you. I bet you'd taste so good.
[ Everything. All of it. That he'll make it feel good for her, first and foremost, dissimilar among those that have made promises and never delivered. Inflated their own self-worth with talks of sexual prowess only to disappoint. But Ben — there's an earnestness there, a true desire to tend to her. She's dizzy with it. ]
You're so good for me. So good to me, letting me tie you up like this. Always thinking about taking care of me.
[ It's sweet, cajoling, while her lips travel to his check, but never saccharine. Never insincere. She doesn't want that appreciation overlooked or mistaken, and despite knowing so little of what domination entails, she needs him to understand that he's being praised. That he has pleased her. ]
I want that, Ben. I want to be sticky with your cum. I want you to tie me up and use me like I'm going to use you. [ It would disturb her more, but he has asked for it. Begged for it. Understanding that he wants that as vehemently and as viciously as she does allows her to feel less ridden with guilt. Her fingers find their way beneath his chin, tilting it up toward her as she lavishes his forehead with affection, trails her lips to the tip of his nose, his chin, the corner of his mouth. But never directly against his lips, taunting him with what he has denied her frequently. ] And maybe when I'm done rubbing myself off, I'll let you come in your pants.
[ She stops, reconsiders, and places one last, fleeting kiss to his jawline before she drops to her knees suddenly. He's restricted her from undressing him, but he hasn't banned her from touching him. There are creative ways around it, and she enacts on them now as she skims her blunt nails up the inseams of his trousers from where she's knelt between his legs. ]
Or — [ She presses her mouth to the fabric, ignoring the discomfort of its taste as she drags open lips over where his cock juts out in his trousers, twitching and demanding her attention. He's big. She can determine that much from the outline alone, and she has to squeeze her thighs together again at the knowledge. Fuck. He's going to fill her as nicely as he claims. ] If you ask nicely, I'll let you touch yourself for me. You could come on my face. Wouldn't you want that?
[ Or is that another limit he'd suddenly erect? She doesn't know, but the image appeals far too much, and she punctuates it with a too-chaste kiss to where she estimates the head of his dick to be. ]
Edited (tmw i'm ashamed of myself for writing the wrong word and turning a sentence nonsensical??? don't @ me) 2018-07-17 06:38 (UTC)
[ It's overwhelming. To have her all over him at once, but never where he needs her. He actually tugs at his cuffs, a sudden clink of metal locking him in place, preventing him from reaching for her. From pulling her in. From taking more from this. He groans for her, letting that sound humming in the back of his throat tell her how she gets to him.
But then she drops in front of him and he's blinking through the haze of desire to stare at her. At first, real concern shoots through him that she'll disregard that boundary, that she'll take his cock from his pants and put her pretty mouth around it. That concern morphs into want — fuck his boundaries, fuck whatever logic and reasoning he had for trying to hold himself back, fuck.
Her mouth looks so good against the fabric of his pants like that, the friction is muted but steady, promising, and he ruts up helplessly to try and rock against her lips. No. She's not going to tear that boundary down. She'd never, and he accepts that. But that isn't to say he doesn't feel a full-body clench concentrated in his abdomen that's aching to blow it in his pants right this second. ]
Please. [ He chokes it out. It's a humiliating sound. Desperate. Begging. He finds her gaze, holds it. Already he's flushed and sweating slightly, too-warm in his clothes with how turned on she has him. His hips strain for her mouth. He has to fight past that image to answer the question she's actually asking him. By the time he can, he's practically trembling. Fuck, she just barely cuffed him. How could she get him like this so quickly? So easily? ]
You'd look so pretty painted with my cum. [ Whatever coherent, academic tone he'd otherwise been possessed of, he's lost it. Horny babbling is the only language he can speak, and she hasn't even begun to touch herself yet. ] Want you to see how hard you make me. I'll show you how I'm gonna fuck your panties every night until I can get the real thing.
[ She holds his gaze, steady, as she braces her palms on his knees to rise back to her full height. There is no warning to telegraph her intentions as she presses a hand flat to his sternum and forces him onto the bed, though it takes her a moment longer to realize the discomfort the handcuffs may provide for his wrists, locked behind his back as they are. He's built like a brickhouse, much to her delight; the pain of metal cutting into his skin can't harm him much, but it doesn't hinder her from straddling his torso, working out his arms to yank them over his head instead.
There. Better. And by her calculation, leaving them there as opposed to attaching him to the headboard will ensure he doesn't lose circulation and come away from this stiff and unwilling to spread himself out for her again. She kneads her fingers into the fabric that covers his biceps, gentle in comparison to her bossy demeanor, seizing control to manipulate his body as she wants. Frustrated as she is, she wants to stray away from having it mistaken for genuine anger, muddling the lines between fantasy and reality. She can still recall the dread sinking her stomach when he had asked if she was displeased with him, and to ruin their game now would be —
Destructive. She's not certain she can handle the prospective of not getting off to him for a third time. More so now when he's solid beneath her, radiating bodily warmth, and pleading for her so beautifully. As though she can capture the echo of his groans and broken begging, she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip and then takes it between her teeth, groaning against the soft, plush flesh of it. She'd rather see it bleeding, swollen, from her efforts — but there's too much of him to cover, and too much she wants to inflict upon him, to keep her attention locked on his mouth. ]
Not yet. [ Thus far, she's been as merciful as she can be. Providing touch, friction, teasing. But she's nearly forgotten herself and the intent behind it, and she has to cling onto the principle now as she raises herself more firmly onto her knees. It removes the heat of her from his torso, deprives him of that anchoring weight. He'd told her to discipline him, granted her that permission; like hell she isn't going to make the most of it, taunt him as he has taunted her. ] You still have to punished, Ben.
[ It takes some adjusting, but she crawls her way up the length of his body, hovers above his face to give him the vantage point of her cunt he'd been chasing, pink and shining and leaking out onto her thighs. He'd looked so good beneath her like this, licking up into her, sucking at her clit; she groans at the mental image, but she keeps herself just out of reach of his mouth, lest either of them break and cross that boundary. ]
For not letting me come. [ Drifting, her fingers waste little time in outlining her hips before dipping between her legs, tracing idly along her slit. Slick gathers on her fingers, trailing up to the swell of her clit to spread it around her. ] You could get the real thing instead of fucking my panties every night, but you're always teasing me. Now you're going to have to watch me touch what you won't.
[ Likely, he should have clarified that she shouldn't kiss him. But that felt too cruel, and would be crueler now. Instead he shudders as her teeth scrape his lip, his eyes drifting shut to savor the lingering tug as she pulls away. In that moment, he'd give her anything she wanted.
it is, admittedly, less than comfortable to be thrust onto his back with his hands still behind him. A good lesson for him, he thinks distantly, that he should be conscious of her comfort when she's the one in this position. (She'd likely loathe to know he was being so analytical about it.) Just as he starts to find a comfortable solution, his hands lain flat at the small of his back, she is working to adjust his hands, drop them over his head.
Not restrained to anything. Not truly holding him back. When she straddles his shoulders, he can't help but start to reach down, ready to touch her, but the squeeze of her thighs keeps his shoulders from being able to rotate and get his fingers to where he wants them. Ah. Maybe she was more experienced with this than he believed.
But he can't help himself. She's dripping, shining wet over him, and he's close enough that he could almost taste her. Her arousal smells like thick pheromones and something sour-sweet. He swallows down a groan. ]
Love seeing you like this. [ He probably should be offering her something more subservient, something that makes it sound like a punishment, but damned if he can't be anything but honest right now. ] You've got such a pretty little cunt, Rey. Spread yourself open. Let me see you.
[ Yeah, he sucks at this sub thing. He needs to just accept that. ]
[ Well, that sure backfired. The length of her torso obscures the tics in her expression, the twitch of her mouth, as she determines that Ben Solo is a shitty sub. As to be expected, given his preference for control, but she isn't going to let him get away with that blatant effort to seize authority, the slight rush of her amusement aside. It's her time to be the dominant party, to use him as she pleases. He's made that sacrifice for her, and squandering it would be a waste when they've come this far.
Never mind that his praise pulses between her legs. A new wave of wetness coats her fingers when she dips them into her entrance, coming away shining and sticky. ]
Behave.
[ Her knees press harder into his shoulders, a method of restraint and limiting his motions that's proven useful. Not just for his sake, not just in respect for his boundaries, but for her own sake. The moment he touches her, she won't be able to trust herself. ]
You're mine tonight. You don't get to give orders or touch me unless I give you permission. [ To make the punishment for that disobedience incomplete, even at the risk of having to remove her fingers from her cunt, she pauses. It's deprivation at its finest; he likes watching her like this, and so she's taken it away until he's earned it back. Worse, she teases him by dragging her damp fingers just beneath his lip, unable to be reached, before she sucks them into her mouth and locks her eyes with his. Dark, wildly eclipsed by the blackness of her enlarged pupil. They slide out with a lewd pop, coated in her saliva. ] If you want something, you have to ask for it. Beg me.
[ He lets out a perfectly undignified groan as she stops herself. It's the perfect move. Frankly, he has to be impressed with her. She seizes control of her own body and her own orgasm back from him, and it's no longer about having his permission to come now. It's about choosing to. It's about what she's giving him. His eyes flick up to meet hers, dark and needy.
His lips part, trying to catch her fingers, but she denies him. That leaves his cock throbbing. He swallows down the choked growl of a reaction. He shifts, stirs beneath her like a stirring volcano coming active. He's ready to burst. ]
Please.
[ He doesn't even know what he's begging for yet. But he knows that he prefers when she doesn't pause specifically to deny him. He has to learn how to do this, how to accommodate her, how to be docile and accept what she gives him. Every breath has his chest heaving beneath her hips. If only she'd sit there, drip onto him. If only she'd sit on his face, let him devour her. ]
No more orders. I promise. [ Right about now, he'd promise anything. He's scarcely in his life been so overheated, so desperate. ] I want to see you fuck that sweet cunt for me. [ No, that's not what she wanted. He swallows thickly, tries again in earnest: ] Will you show me? Please, I want to see you come. Come on me, Rey. I'll lick it off your fingers.
[ He isn't vying for control any longer, struggling against what little control she has. What little control she has to have, exerting her will on him like this, to convince herself that the effect he has on her is a mutual damnation. To feel that she isn't pathetically pining for him, only permitted what he will give her.
It's a teaching moment for him, she suspects, but it's also a teaching moment for her. And if she's starting to find appeal in subversive roles, exchanging her usual brand of submission with him, well — that's her business. The end result is what's significant, above all else; perhaps, by the end of it all, she'll have earned his trust.
But it's a fleeting consideration, and she doesn't have the brain capacity to contemplate it any farther currently. Most of the blood has rushed away from her head and toward her cunt, swollen like her clit when she begins again, thumb skirting around it to build herself up. ]
Perfect. Just like that. [ She praises softly, fingers scraping over his scalp to pet him like one might a pet. Perhaps that's degrading, but humiliation isn't what she hopes to yield. Simply put, it's a reward, tempering her authoritative bossiness with tender affection to keep him with her. ] You're doing so well, Ben.
[ Eventually, she has to remove that hand to follow his earlier request. Her fingers slip between her folds, honeyed from arousal, to spread herself open to his gaze. Like that, he can see clearly the stroke of her index finger as it sinks knuckle-deep into her cunt, pulling a low, hoarse groan that sounds as though it came from the depths of her chest. ]
Is this what you wanted to see? You want to see me fuck my tight little cunt for you? [ She doesn't waste time in teasing herself, sliding another finger inside of herself and rocking down, clenching down around them as she drives and twists them up inside of her too viciously to pretend she isn't a dripping, desperate mess. ] Maybe next time I'll ride your fingers instead. Make you keep them still while I use them however I want, fuck them like their my personal toy.
[ A few things occur to Ben here. First, that it is, in fact, humiliating that she treats him like a puppy, soothing him and petting him. Rewarding him with treats. Second, and more importantly, that he would probably kill a man just to hear her do it again. Shame burns bright, telling him that he's a failure of a man, a disappointment, a cuck, a waste. That's what Snoke would say, but Rey thinks he's perfect, Rey wants to reward him, Rey sees that he's not a bad man. Something wells up in his chest, ready to burst from that praise.
His face is flushed bright red with wanting, a thin sheen of sweat causing him to shine under the low light of his bedroom. His mouth falls open as she adds a second finger, and he watches as her cunt squeezes around it, stretches to fit. The uneven penetration of two fingers gives him a faint glimpse of the first centimeter of her inner walls, slick and swollen and shining with arousal. Pulsing.
He has all but lost track of what she is saying, entranced by the vigorous thrusting of her fingers, the wet sounds she makes as she pumps them in and out, the way her slick dribbles down her knuckles, leaving a telling shine on her hand. He wants to lap it up, taste her, suck on her clit until she's thrashing and screaming his name. But he can't. He can't have that yet. ]
I'm all yours, Rey.
[ He starts with that because it sounds like a safe answer, and he's still grappling with what else he can say that won't challenge her, won't assert himself over her. If he doesn't say something, though, and she starts making noise, he's going to come in his pants. He has to get out of his own head, stop imagining his cock buried there, spreading her wide. ]
Use me however you want. You're so fucking pretty. You've got a perfect cunt. [ He licks his lips, as though absently wondering if he might be able to get her close enough to taste. ] Will you show me how you play with your clit? I shouldn't have left you waiting. I was selfish, wanting to see this.
[ Use me however you want. No. No, he's decidedly not allowed to mutter those words when there are clear restrictions in play. Not if he expects her to temper herself, rein in her want, rather than take advantage of his vulnerable position. All the same, she still whines in response to his seeming allowance all the same, pumping her fingers into her cunt too vigorously.
They're too small to satisfy. Curling her fingers barely strikes against that rough patch of nerve-endings on the interior of her walls, but it elicits a weaker full-body shudder, legs shaking from the force of it and the continued exertion involved in holding herself up. A palm slaps down above his head, between his arms, to ease some of the weight off of her knees. With that new arrangement, she curves over him, but never once do her fingers pause.
Instead, she obliges, thumb tapping against her clit. All it takes is that bare contact for her to moan and nearly leap out of her skin. Too soon. She's going to come so humiliatingly, embarrassingly easy, from the encouragement of his begging and the sight of him alone. Having waited too long to delay her gratification again, she draws slow circles into it, rocking her hips in tandem with the pace she's set. ]
Fuck. [ It's little more than a hiss out of her lungs, knuckles straining as she gathers the bedding in her fist, sufficiently rumpling it as she futilely anchors herself. ] Fuck. God, Ben. I'm going to come for you already.
[ At this point, she has to wonder if he's a goddamn magician. No one has gotten her off so quickly just by existing in the same space she has, rumbling out filth to make her sob and shake. Even then, she knows it won't be enough to satisfy. Nothing will be until she has him completely. It's a matter of tiring herself out, then; one orgasm won't mean that she's done with him for the night. ]
[ There's something raw and real about the vantage she gives him, doubled over like this. The view isn't perfect, more obscured for it, but he can take in the way the muscles of her abdomen pulse, the way sweat beads on her skin, the way her thumb thrums over her clit, the pace she keeps. He can learn her like this. No, it's not the perfect porn angle to watch this from, but it's interlocked enough to feel like a participant instead of the voyeur he is, and real enough that her pleasure practically feels like his own.
Certainly his hips strain upwards, bucking futilely in search of some friction. He aches to adjust himself, the severity of his erection trending towards pain as his cock fills, agonizingly hard now. Burning with need. He groans for her, celebrating the noises she makes, which he can commit to memory, use later to feed his own pleasure. ]
Please.
[ For once, he's not even twisting himself into that submissive space. He slides directly there, straining. ]
Go on, Rey. Come for me. I want to see you come apart. [ He's babbling. He doesn't stop himself because right now his voice is all he has to help her get off. ] I want to lick your fingers clean. You smell so fucking good; I can't wait to taste that sweet cunt of yours. It's going to be mine, Rey. All mine.
[ On the cusp of her climax, she resorts to that mindless babble, too far gone to even take note of what's emerging from her mouth. She can only hear her own choked cries ringing in her eardrums, the slick wetness that squelches as she impales herself on an added finger, struggling for that fullness. It isn't his cock, thick and tenting his trousers, but it'll have to do.
It'll have to do.
Those three fingers rest inside of her as she devotes all of her attention to strumming her clit, removing her hand from the sheets to twist it into his hair. The grasp is too tight, forceful, what she had been aiming to avoid in easing him into a submissive role. But she can't relinquish her strength, grounding herself with him, as she finally shakes apart. The force of it nearly knocks her over, as though her body is expressing its dissatisfaction at her earlier refusal to come, but resilience keeps her upright.
Resilience, however, can't stop the quivering of the muscles in her thighs even in the aftershocks. Her fingers are soaked beyond what she's ever known them to be, and her cunt continues to throb and pulse in protest of the sudden emptiness, but she settles back to sit on his shoulders. The initial impression she gives is one of cruelty when she swipes her tongue over her fingers, but they're still dripping, even as she leans in to slide her tongue into his mouth, flicking against the roof of it to impart the taste on him. ]
You did so well. [ It's partially muffled by her next press in, nipping at his mouth, but she can't bring herself to separate from him. ] But I'm not done with you yet. Can you do more for me, Ben?
[ She has to ask, check in him with. She won't keep him chained and crazed if he can't take it any farther. ]
[ He grabs onto her like he's bracing himself, holding him for dear life, and he can feel in her thighs how she shivers with her climax, a visceral, bodily thing which tears through her, sets her aflame with desire — for him. Pleasure, derived from him. He's left in his own whimpering and writhing state by it, bucking into nothing, arms jerking futilely. He can't get anywhere from here, so he doesn't try hard, but he wants to. Oh, he wants to.
Instead he drinks down the kiss she gives him, sucking at her tongue as though he could get more of that tang off of it. He can't. It's just the hint of her on his mouth, but it's the sweetest flavor he's ever tasted. He leans up to chase the kiss, trying to hold her there, trying to drink her down, but she chastens it, murmurs against him, and he's left groaning. ]
Rey.
[ His voice is a husky rasp, something muted, thrilled by the undercurrent of anticipation that runs throughout it. He gives another helpless thrust up of his hips. He doesn't know what to tell her, doesn't know if he can take it if she doesn't touch him. He trembles. Aches. He's never known this side of it, the denial, the anticipation.
God, he's not even going to get to touch her. It devastates him, acknowledging that. When he comes out the other end of it, he doesn't' get her mouth on his cock — or her cunt. He gets his own hand, same as ever. He could weep with it. ]
Whatever you want.
[ It's worse for her, he decides. It's worse that she has felt he doesn't really want her. Let her see how it wrecks him to be this close to her and be denied. ]
[ Whatever she wants. That's a precarious promise, but she neglects her filthy imagination — and the danger of indulging it — to hone in on his state. Squirming, as she wants him to be. Drunk on his desire for her and desperately overcome because of it. But not frantic, or veering into upset, as his limits are pushed. He's as new to this as she is, after all; tarnishing his first experience with being tied by taking it too far, and for too long, would be a disappointment for them both.
It's a power rush, certainly, for a woman that has often felt trapped. Who has only felt free in being able to pursue an education away from Plutt, and even then he demands her skills in his arsenal. But it's the foundation of trust that allows for her to pin Ben and take what she wants from this. She would be failing him if she didn't account for the possibility that he may not have the capacity for — well, there's no kind way to say being tormented. That's precisely what this is.
Regardless, it's as much a means of meeting her needs as it is taking care of him, ensuring he feels safe, cherished. When he provides her with that answer, and she stops to gauge the sincerity of it, she simply nods and leans over him to plant her lips against his forehead. ]
You're always so good to me, giving me whatever I want. [ Trying to take care of her. Outside of a sexual or affectionate realm, it's been frustrating. Inside of it, however, it always makes her stomach clench with delight. ] I'm going to use your cock now, Ben. I'm going to soak your pants.
[ True to her word, she does slither down his body to settle in his lap, sliding her wet cunt along the outline of his erection. The fabric of his pants is coarse against her still sensitive clit, but the damp patch is unmistakable when she looks down, lip tucked between her teeth as she admires the sight.
But she does manage to break that spell of captivation after a few rolls of her hips — a slow, barely-there pressure, when she's still throbbing from overstimulation — to grasp his chin and guide him to ensure he's watching her face, meeting her eyes when she next speaks, hoarse and scratchy. ]
If you don't come from this, I'll let you paint my face with your cum, just like I promised. [ She pauses, reconsiders, never once stopping the delicate motions of her hips. More like an easy wave, ebbing and flowing. Maybe he needs more motivation than that, and she is more than inclined to reward him. ] No. I'll let you come wherever you want. My face, my tits, all over my cunt — [ She punctuates that with a fiercer press of her hips but has to relent when her eyes dare to roll back in her head from it. ] Wherever you want, Ben. Would you like that?
[ If the goal is to keep him from making a mess of his pants before she's done, she's failing. Miserably. In fact, she's doing an astonishingly bad job, and for a moment, Ben is sure that they have finally found something she's bad at. About fucking time. He'd say so, if he were able to drag more than a ragged moan out of the back of his throat at the friction that finally satisfied the length of his cock. He's bunched all wrong in his pants, and in some ways, the pressure of her hips only sparks discomfort because it bends him at an unpleasant angle as his cock tries to jut straight out. But it's so much better than being ignored that he barely notices.
The weight also draws his attention to the wet spot that he's already made on the inside of his boxers, presses the fabric to his skin, and that sends a shiver that prickles into gooseflesh on his neck and shoulders and upper arms. His cock is weeping, desperate for this attention. He gives a firm buck of his hips up to strain against her, to try and seek out the friction she needs, to give it to her. ]
Fuck, Rey. [ He's gasping, panting, writhing beneath her like he's in fucking heat. It's the best thing he's ever felt, and she's just dry-humping him. Through his fucking pants. It's — God. He feels like a teenager, some simpering virgin, ready to blow his load because he saw tits for the first time.
He's trying. He's trying so fucking hard, especially now that she's gripping his jaw, trying to promise her anything else. He's trying to remember the opening to his dissertation. If anything's going to stop him from blowing his load, it's philosophy. In matters of ethics, intent can be divided into… What comes after that? He'd edited the sentence so many times he— ]
Look at you. [ He can't believe it. There's no way, of course, for her to look at herself. There's no mirror in his bedroom. But he's staring at her like she hung the fucking moon. His dissertation's gone. He's fucking gone.
Thinking of how good she's going to look with his cum smeared all over her, how good she'd feel squeezing around his cock when she came. Oh, she'd get there. He knows that now. Friction is all well and good, yeah, but Rey's about penetration. She's getting off just as much on the promise of his cock as she is on the actual friction of rubbing together. ] Perfect. Incredible.
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bakerstreet2018-07-02 12:23 am
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The result only leaves him feeling like more of a failure. The atmosphere between them cools. He goes quiet for a moment. There it is. The quintessential Ben Solo failure of a date, carried across the finish line in total, uncomfortable silence. ]
Come with me.
[ He gets to his feet, thinking maybe if he shows her the rest of what he has considered in the one (1) minute he spent developing this idea, then she'll be … what? Placated? It's still not going to be what she wants. While he had contented himself with what they could actually have access to, Rey seems to maintain a constant thread of hope to push it further.
That's a dangerous thing, really. It will harm them both in the long run. But he is too enamored by it to be put off. Ben touches her shoulder, then leads the way back into his bedroom. Inside he gestures for the foot of the bed, encouraging her to — ] Sit. Please.
[ He rolls the words around in his mind, trying to figure out how to articulate himself. ]
I will never tire of watching you. [ Let's start there. That seems like a good place to start. ] I had hoped to be able to get closer to you. My vantage, in the past, has left much to be desired. However, I think I may have a compromise that will … [ Hm. ] Not alleviate your disappointment, but temper it.
[ He goes to his nightstand then and opens the drawer to produce a pair of gleaming metal handcuffs. They clink as he loops his finger through one of the cuffs and the chain drops to let the other one dangle as he turns back towards her. ]
I will not touch you. I think it would be better if we maintained that boundary. But if you would like to use me … [ He swallows thickly again, a heat rising in his neck and ears. He's turning slightly pink with it, but he soldiers ahead. She had wanted to pin him down and take what she wanted, after all. ] You may tease and punish me and take what friction you want from me. I only ask that you do not undress me.
no subject
[ Doubt that, she had been prepared to sullenly say. Childishly, she wants to cling to that, toss it in his face that she won't be soothed by so little. The words die, however, when the scant slip of light that cascades beyond his bedroom's blinds catches on the glinting silver of what he's dangling between his fingers. Her rapt interest is too obvious, curiously tracking its movements, and then rising to study the tint of embarrassed pink to his complexion.
She has a million and one questions, not least of all a nosy need to know why he has a pair of handcuffs tucked away in his nightstand. Common sense informs her that he must have used them before, perhaps recently; her gut curdles unpleasantly at the thought, makes her feel more miserable to know that he has touched other women freely but denies her the same pleasure frequently.
In contrast, she's never taken the initiative to bind anyone. Considered implementing it, yes, but she has never trusted another so faithfully as to offer herself. Her partners have ostensibly lacked the same comfort; understandably, those types of casual sexual arrangements hadn't left for that much exploration and investment, and she had ended them as to not confuse fondness for sex as fondness for her partners.
It's different with Ben. She leans forward from where she's seated at the end of the bed to grasp the other end of the handcuffs, running her thumb over the cold material. Her frown still hasn't faded. ]
My disappointment hasn't been tempered. [ Time to get that out of the way. It's probably a brutal mishandling of his feelings to be so honest about that, but she's not selfless enough to spare him that. To allow him the illusion that this makes up for his refusal to touch her (ever, she's beginning to suspect). It won't. ] I'm not going to pretend that it is or that it ever will be. Honestly, this is more of a punishment for me than it is for you.
[ He's the one that doesn't want to touch her, after all, when she's done everything in her willpower to convince him. While she suffers through that, he doesn't seem at all perturbed by not having his hands on her. Affected, but not upset. Not disappointed. Not frustrated. It doesn't go a long way toward making her feel desirable, but — ]
But I'm interested. [ Before he thinks she's blatantly rejecting his proposal. She isn't. ] I want to. And it's all you'll give me.
[ Obviously. She sounds noticeably deflated by that, but she perseveres, standing, and moves to take them more fully from him. ]
no subject
Never before has he ever heard such an underwhelming acceptance of sexual activity. Frankly, he should be complimented that she wants his cock so badly as to be moody and unpleasant in resigning herself to anything else. But he can't bring himself to be. Instead he remains disappointed with himself for being unable to fulfill her clearly stated needs.
For that reason, when she tugs at the cuffs, they don't immediately come out of his hand. He frowns, studying her. No matter what allowance he tries to make, no matter how he softens his boundaries, he cannot seem to make her happy.
He's made a mess of this. Like he made a mess of all things. Better, he thinks, would have been to hold off confronting her. Or offering her help. Or texting her. All of those tiny slips had allowed for this one, had slid them straight into a hard boundary that he could not violate — not for ethics. No, no matter how Rey felt on the subject, he did not entertain the notion that he was anything but a bad man. But for practicality. He had his job to consider, and he now had Rey's safety to consider too.
He gives up the cuffs to her, but the anticipation has gone out of it. Popped like a balloon. He had worked himself up, thinking that maybe allowing her power over him within limits would make this better. It hadn't. Now it feels like it meant nothing. ]
It doesn't sound like you want to. [ He huffs out a sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose, and then paces the short distance towards his bathroom, turning back towards her only once he has reached the doorway. ] I don't understand what you expect from me.
no subject
[ That reaffirmation emerges in a panic, and no matter how pathetic it is to nip at his heels like a lost puppy, she tracks him those small steps. Doing so logically prevents him from closing the door in her face and ordering her out, subsequently shutting the door on the start of — well, this. But most of her distress is of her own making, she decides; he had been willing to give her that much, and she's squandered it, fucked it up beyond all recognition and put him off in the process.
She only barely keeps herself from begging him not to disappear into the bathroom and leave her alone, from imploring him to forget what she's said and plead with him to go along with his original suggestion. The truth is that she does want it, even if it is a poor substitute for what he won't give her, but she can't ward off the nagging paranoia in her brain that he doesn't want her. That he will never want her as viciously as she wants him.
Her expectations had risen, muddled this as meaning more than it must. She'd been mistaken, she thinks. First, in assuming this had been a date of any sort; now, in presuming that his allowance for touch encompassed all aspects of a potential relationship, that he had come to terms with his desire for her as she had with him. ]
I want you. [ It's the simplified, SparkNotes version. ] My expectation was that you wanted me back, but you won't touch me. You won't kiss me. You obviously kept these — [ here, she jingles the handcuffs in front of him for emphasis. ] — in your bedside drawer for a reason. Which means you'll have sex with other women, but not with me. With me, you'll only watch.
[ It's a leap in logic, admittedly, but her brain keeps getting stuck on that one fact. He planned to have these on hand for any encounters, clearly. Within his reach if he needed them at hand. It bothers her beyond the possessive clench in her abdomen. ]
What's so wrong with me that you don't want me?
[ Keeping herself from getting choked up as she delivers that question is impossible. Vulnerable as it is, she can't repress it. That's what it has to be, she's decided. She's good enough to watch, to keep from a distance, but he isn't interested in touching her himself. There has to be something about her that's disgusting, distasteful, for him to allow her to dry hump him like a teenager but nothing more. ]
no subject
[ That comes out first, an immediate correction. The most important, he thinks. So important that it stops him chewing the inside of his cheek, holding himself back from interrupting her. Only once it's out does he draw closer to her. He raises his hands to rest them on her shoulders — hesitates markedly, as though he thinks that closeness will only contribute, make it harder. He does it anyway. Yes, Ben settles his palms decidedly on he shoulders. Now, while she is on the brink of tears over this, it is important to give into that urge.
Any others would be irresponsible, though they hover near the surface of his thoughts. The urge to throw her back onto his bed now, fuck all his boundaries, and bury himself inside of her to show her just how badly he wants her. To lose himself in her and forget the rest of the goddamn world for a while. To let none of it matter. That sets a bad precedent. It would be worse, he thinks, to give into it only to take it away again. ]
Do not mistake my efforts to control myself for a lack of desire. [ His expression twists with the effort of repressing the emotion that threatens to surface. He doesn't know how to let it eek out when it's always been used against him. ] There is nothing wrong with you, Rey. It's killing me how badly I want you. If it weren't, I would have no need to offer you the cuffs in the first place.
[ He struggles to keep his voice level as he says it. There's a thick quality to it, not quite hoarse, but rough. Low. ]
The women that I have used those on were not my students. And I invited none of them to restrain me. [ Control, as he had already told her, was essential to him. A point she had apparently overlooked in her fear of being unwanted. He cannot blame her for that, given what he has made her feel, but that intimacy felt like a big compromise from his end, so he reiterates it here. ]
Believe me. Seven weeks from now, God himself will not be able to stop me from fucking you every way I can. It will not be an evening date. It will be several days of the two of us destroying each other in every way two people can.
Until then, I am trying to resist jeopardizing my position with the university. [ he gestures to the handcuffs in her hand and admits, ] Poorly. It is a testament to how badly I want you that I have allowed it to go this far.
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[ Oh. In the face of all he has said, all he has rectified, it sounds so daft. And she feels she must appear the part, too, reaching for words that won't immediately come. Frozen with her new comprehension, her lips take the shape of a perfect o for an inordinate amount of time until she recovers.
When she does, she looks abashed. Part of her still wants to repeat that she had misunderstood, defensive, prepared to insist she hadn't intentionally pressured him — but he isn't holding her in contempt, and so she relaxes beneath the grip he has on her shoulders. More than relaxes. She presses her face into his chest briefly, breathing in the unique scent of clean detergent and Ben, and takes a few more calming inhales and exhales.
When she does emerge from his sternum, the splotchy quality to her complexion can't be blamed on tears. Thankfully, those have evaporated, but now she's left humiliated for revealing that vulnerable underbelly so quickly. Wrongly exposed, at that, when she's misconstrued so drastically.
Embarrassing. On top of that, she's fairly certain she's screwed everything up. Cockblocked herself viciously. ]
Good. [ ? ? ? She's judging herself for only being able to mutter that much, but there's an upturn to her lips that comes dangerously close to a smile. But it is good, and she does sound breathless with relief, that he does want her in return. ] I'd be the first, then?
[ Pulling back, she dangles the handcuffs in front of him, more alight with the idea. Now that she no longer has to contend with that overwhelming insecurity, nor the unwelcome picture of him involved with someone else, ]
Do you still want to try?
[ There's something shy in that. Bold as she has been, she isn't unaware that she's likely been Too Much for him to handle, and a rejection is entirely possible. She can only hope she hasn't ruined the appeal of that idea for him so strongly that he can't find arousal in it. ]
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You will be the first.
[ He assures her of that, his hands falling to his sides. He glances at his bed briefly, then back at the door out into his living room. ]
Would you prefer to tie me on the bed with you, or in my office chair?
[ It had been her fantasy, after all. Breaking him on that thing. He might not be giving her the full reins of actual penetration, but she might be able to break it nonetheless. It would also free up space for her to sprawl out more on the bed if his long legs weren't kicking down the length of it. He's keenly aware of how much space he can take up.
The question really centers on how much of it she wants to be an intimate performance and how much she wants to grind herself on him, in all fairness. The chair would be more comfortable if she wanted to be on her own, showing herself to him. But the bed would be more accessible if she meant to rub herself off against his cock.
As though he has spoken its name, the blood rushing downward gives a hearty pulse then, a warning that it's filling and he'd better not fuck it over for a third time today. Or would this be the fourth? ]
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You'll find out.
[ Denying him access to her strategy (that she has, in true Rey fashion, concocted in no less than five seconds) shouldn't qualify as 'punishment', but it is a means of keeping him on his toes. Assuming control, reminding him that she has the authority to steer them as she pleases. She leans up, then, pressing her lips just barely against his — a distraction technique as she grips both of his arms and guides them behind them, clasping the handcuffs around him with some fumbling.
Maybe that inelegance makes it apparent she hasn't done this before, but she doesn't stop to remind him of that. He trusts her. Her inexperience shouldn't factor in. From there, she pulls back to use his belt loops to lead him, too impatient to pretend she isn't eager to get him into position for herself — though it does take some shifting to, as carefully as she can manage in her haste, encourage him to sit on the edge of the bed.
Rey is far from the striptease type, too practical and too greedy to take her time teasing in that way. Quick and fast has always been her way, though those entanglements haven't ever truly allowed for more when she has always obviously been scratching an itch, chasing an end goal. But she steps away from him to unbutton her jeans, unzip them as slowly as her willpower will allow, and ease them over her hips, down her legs.
There's no sexy way to disrobe out of jeans, she's discovered as she steps out of them, but. A+ for trying. ]
I'll save your office chair for when I get to ride your cock like it's mine. [ Her thumbs hook into the waistband of her panties, but she doesn't slide them downward, only toys with the waistband. ] Because it is, Ben. It's mine. Isn't it?
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She nudges him to a sitting position, and he looks up at her like she's the sun, something to be orbited, obeyed, something which compels him. The answer to her question is surely obvious there. If not, it's becoming gradually obvious in his pants as his cock twitches to respond to her, filling with blood. He's not all the way hard yet, but watching her strip down is getting him there. Even with the misstep of her jeans. It makes it real. It makes it her.
His eyes linger where her thumbs press into the elastic of her waistband, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, his breath heaving in his chest. He regrets his boundaries now. Wants her to strip him down so he can feel her skin against his. Wants the promise of her riding his cock, wants to see how her tits and her hair bounce. He's dreamed of that since he watched Dameron fuck her. ]
Yours. [ His mouth is dry, but he answers her with an eager nod. He's a fucking goner for her. It's never been a question. ] Just yours.
[ Which is why he wants to beg her to touch it, put those pretty lips on it, take it inside her sweet cunt, but he can't. He can't because he knows she will, and if they don't set boundaries of some kind, they'll have none, and he'll be fired.
He's not used to this end of it. Searching her expression, briefly, he has to do some mental math — what kinds of things he would want to hear because he's otherwise struck speechless. So far out of his element. But he wants her to see how he needs her, wants her to know she's doing so well. ]
My cock was made for you, Rey. [ This time there's no mistaking how ragged his voice is with want. ] Can't wait to be buried in your sweet cunt. Please. Show me. Let me see you.
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The view only affords him a glance, a sneak peek at the pink, glistening triangle between her thighs where she's grown wet in record time. But it feels worth it when she turns back around where he remains on the bed, helpless but reverential. Trusting, yearning for her as she feared he wouldn't. That reaffirmation is what she needs to sustain herself through these next weeks, wearing down her fingers and her toy with how feverish she is. With how she wants to bury him inside her until he comes, and continue even past that, lock him inside of her and never relinquish the power she has over him.
It's intoxicating. She had imagined it might be, but she hadn't been prepared for the full magnitude of it. She hasn't so much as touched him or herself and she's flushed a glowing red, chest heaving, more noticeable when she shucks off her sweater with little preamble to stand nude before him. Rather than feel exposing, it only feels — empowering, confident with the knowledge that he finds her so enticing that he would subject himself to this, place himself in that position. ]
I'm giving these to you. [ Dangling from her fingertip is that scrap of underwear. Her good underwear, surprisingly. The only good pair that isn't worn out cotton. Planting her hand beside him on the bed, she leans in to tuck them inside of the pocket of his trousers, mouthing at the pulse in his neck as she does so. He mostly tastes clean, soap with a small tang of sweat. ] For being so good. And —
[ She moves to his ear, brushing aside locks of hair to mouth at the shell of it. They're practically satellite dishes, but it's cute. Endearing. Quickly, she decides she likes them. ]
I'm hoping you'll wrap them around your cock the next time you think of me. Cover them in cum while you're thinking about filling my cunt with it until I'm dripping. [ Hoarse, her voice drops, lips skimming his lobe with each consonant. Her other hand raises, chastely soothing for how it smooths through his hair while she's muttering filth. ] Can you do that for me, Ben?
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It's her, he decides. She's the only one who can make him like this. Hard, desperate, ready to pop in his pants at the sound of her voice. He tilts his head for her and, for the first time, the feeling of lips on his ears doesn't immediately send him into a spiral of insecurity about how large they are. Instead he just finally relinquishes that moan he'd tried to hold back.
Fuck, if she'd let his hands free, he'd tug one off into her panties right now. It wouldn't take long. He'd sit humiliated in the mess of his own come and thank her for the chance. Pathetic. He's pathetic. It keeps circling in his thoughts, as though caught around a drain. This is the hazard of giving himself over, submitting himself — accepting that he's just as worthless and simpering as Snoke has made him feel like he is.
For some reason, though, Rey doesn't think so. It burns some of the ugliness away. ]
Yes. Thank you.
[ He rasps that out first. It comes easier now. Easier than the rest had. His cock throbs. Pulses with need, a desperate cry for attention, and he groans, shifting where he sits. It's not properly situated in his pants. It hurts more like this, sticking out, tenting his pants. He hadn't thought of that before he'd let her cuff him. ]
Can't wait to smell your sweet pussy. [ If she doesn't think he's gonna bury his face in them first, she's got another thing coming. He's seen so much of her, but the rest of his senses have been denied. Even the feel of her fingers threading in his hair is overwhelming. ] I'll make it feel so good. I promise. I'll make you come until you can't walk. Then I'll fill you up and tie you to this bed and pump you full of my cum, make you keep it inside of you. I bet you'd taste so good.
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[ Everything. All of it. That he'll make it feel good for her, first and foremost, dissimilar among those that have made promises and never delivered. Inflated their own self-worth with talks of sexual prowess only to disappoint. But Ben — there's an earnestness there, a true desire to tend to her. She's dizzy with it. ]
You're so good for me. So good to me, letting me tie you up like this. Always thinking about taking care of me.
[ It's sweet, cajoling, while her lips travel to his check, but never saccharine. Never insincere. She doesn't want that appreciation overlooked or mistaken, and despite knowing so little of what domination entails, she needs him to understand that he's being praised. That he has pleased her. ]
I want that, Ben. I want to be sticky with your cum. I want you to tie me up and use me like I'm going to use you. [ It would disturb her more, but he has asked for it. Begged for it. Understanding that he wants that as vehemently and as viciously as she does allows her to feel less ridden with guilt. Her fingers find their way beneath his chin, tilting it up toward her as she lavishes his forehead with affection, trails her lips to the tip of his nose, his chin, the corner of his mouth. But never directly against his lips, taunting him with what he has denied her frequently. ] And maybe when I'm done rubbing myself off, I'll let you come in your pants.
[ She stops, reconsiders, and places one last, fleeting kiss to his jawline before she drops to her knees suddenly. He's restricted her from undressing him, but he hasn't banned her from touching him. There are creative ways around it, and she enacts on them now as she skims her blunt nails up the inseams of his trousers from where she's knelt between his legs. ]
Or — [ She presses her mouth to the fabric, ignoring the discomfort of its taste as she drags open lips over where his cock juts out in his trousers, twitching and demanding her attention. He's big. She can determine that much from the outline alone, and she has to squeeze her thighs together again at the knowledge. Fuck. He's going to fill her as nicely as he claims. ] If you ask nicely, I'll let you touch yourself for me. You could come on my face. Wouldn't you want that?
[ Or is that another limit he'd suddenly erect? She doesn't know, but the image appeals far too much, and she punctuates it with a too-chaste kiss to where she estimates the head of his dick to be. ]
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But then she drops in front of him and he's blinking through the haze of desire to stare at her. At first, real concern shoots through him that she'll disregard that boundary, that she'll take his cock from his pants and put her pretty mouth around it. That concern morphs into want — fuck his boundaries, fuck whatever logic and reasoning he had for trying to hold himself back, fuck.
Her mouth looks so good against the fabric of his pants like that, the friction is muted but steady, promising, and he ruts up helplessly to try and rock against her lips. No. She's not going to tear that boundary down. She'd never, and he accepts that. But that isn't to say he doesn't feel a full-body clench concentrated in his abdomen that's aching to blow it in his pants right this second. ]
Please. [ He chokes it out. It's a humiliating sound. Desperate. Begging. He finds her gaze, holds it. Already he's flushed and sweating slightly, too-warm in his clothes with how turned on she has him. His hips strain for her mouth. He has to fight past that image to answer the question she's actually asking him. By the time he can, he's practically trembling. Fuck, she just barely cuffed him. How could she get him like this so quickly? So easily? ]
You'd look so pretty painted with my cum. [ Whatever coherent, academic tone he'd otherwise been possessed of, he's lost it. Horny babbling is the only language he can speak, and she hasn't even begun to touch herself yet. ] Want you to see how hard you make me. I'll show you how I'm gonna fuck your panties every night until I can get the real thing.
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There. Better. And by her calculation, leaving them there as opposed to attaching him to the headboard will ensure he doesn't lose circulation and come away from this stiff and unwilling to spread himself out for her again. She kneads her fingers into the fabric that covers his biceps, gentle in comparison to her bossy demeanor, seizing control to manipulate his body as she wants. Frustrated as she is, she wants to stray away from having it mistaken for genuine anger, muddling the lines between fantasy and reality. She can still recall the dread sinking her stomach when he had asked if she was displeased with him, and to ruin their game now would be —
Destructive. She's not certain she can handle the prospective of not getting off to him for a third time. More so now when he's solid beneath her, radiating bodily warmth, and pleading for her so beautifully. As though she can capture the echo of his groans and broken begging, she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip and then takes it between her teeth, groaning against the soft, plush flesh of it. She'd rather see it bleeding, swollen, from her efforts — but there's too much of him to cover, and too much she wants to inflict upon him, to keep her attention locked on his mouth. ]
Not yet. [ Thus far, she's been as merciful as she can be. Providing touch, friction, teasing. But she's nearly forgotten herself and the intent behind it, and she has to cling onto the principle now as she raises herself more firmly onto her knees. It removes the heat of her from his torso, deprives him of that anchoring weight. He'd told her to discipline him, granted her that permission; like hell she isn't going to make the most of it, taunt him as he has taunted her. ] You still have to punished, Ben.
[ It takes some adjusting, but she crawls her way up the length of his body, hovers above his face to give him the vantage point of her cunt he'd been chasing, pink and shining and leaking out onto her thighs. He'd looked so good beneath her like this, licking up into her, sucking at her clit; she groans at the mental image, but she keeps herself just out of reach of his mouth, lest either of them break and cross that boundary. ]
For not letting me come. [ Drifting, her fingers waste little time in outlining her hips before dipping between her legs, tracing idly along her slit. Slick gathers on her fingers, trailing up to the swell of her clit to spread it around her. ] You could get the real thing instead of fucking my panties every night, but you're always teasing me. Now you're going to have to watch me touch what you won't.
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it is, admittedly, less than comfortable to be thrust onto his back with his hands still behind him. A good lesson for him, he thinks distantly, that he should be conscious of her comfort when she's the one in this position. (She'd likely loathe to know he was being so analytical about it.) Just as he starts to find a comfortable solution, his hands lain flat at the small of his back, she is working to adjust his hands, drop them over his head.
Not restrained to anything. Not truly holding him back. When she straddles his shoulders, he can't help but start to reach down, ready to touch her, but the squeeze of her thighs keeps his shoulders from being able to rotate and get his fingers to where he wants them. Ah. Maybe she was more experienced with this than he believed.
But he can't help himself. She's dripping, shining wet over him, and he's close enough that he could almost taste her. Her arousal smells like thick pheromones and something sour-sweet. He swallows down a groan. ]
Love seeing you like this. [ He probably should be offering her something more subservient, something that makes it sound like a punishment, but damned if he can't be anything but honest right now. ] You've got such a pretty little cunt, Rey. Spread yourself open. Let me see you.
[ Yeah, he sucks at this sub thing. He needs to just accept that. ]
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Never mind that his praise pulses between her legs. A new wave of wetness coats her fingers when she dips them into her entrance, coming away shining and sticky. ]
Behave.
[ Her knees press harder into his shoulders, a method of restraint and limiting his motions that's proven useful. Not just for his sake, not just in respect for his boundaries, but for her own sake. The moment he touches her, she won't be able to trust herself. ]
You're mine tonight. You don't get to give orders or touch me unless I give you permission. [ To make the punishment for that disobedience incomplete, even at the risk of having to remove her fingers from her cunt, she pauses. It's deprivation at its finest; he likes watching her like this, and so she's taken it away until he's earned it back. Worse, she teases him by dragging her damp fingers just beneath his lip, unable to be reached, before she sucks them into her mouth and locks her eyes with his. Dark, wildly eclipsed by the blackness of her enlarged pupil. They slide out with a lewd pop, coated in her saliva. ] If you want something, you have to ask for it. Beg me.
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His lips part, trying to catch her fingers, but she denies him. That leaves his cock throbbing. He swallows down the choked growl of a reaction. He shifts, stirs beneath her like a stirring volcano coming active. He's ready to burst. ]
Please.
[ He doesn't even know what he's begging for yet. But he knows that he prefers when she doesn't pause specifically to deny him. He has to learn how to do this, how to accommodate her, how to be docile and accept what she gives him. Every breath has his chest heaving beneath her hips. If only she'd sit there, drip onto him. If only she'd sit on his face, let him devour her. ]
No more orders. I promise. [ Right about now, he'd promise anything. He's scarcely in his life been so overheated, so desperate. ] I want to see you fuck that sweet cunt for me. [ No, that's not what she wanted. He swallows thickly, tries again in earnest: ] Will you show me? Please, I want to see you come. Come on me, Rey. I'll lick it off your fingers.
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It's a teaching moment for him, she suspects, but it's also a teaching moment for her. And if she's starting to find appeal in subversive roles, exchanging her usual brand of submission with him, well — that's her business. The end result is what's significant, above all else; perhaps, by the end of it all, she'll have earned his trust.
But it's a fleeting consideration, and she doesn't have the brain capacity to contemplate it any farther currently. Most of the blood has rushed away from her head and toward her cunt, swollen like her clit when she begins again, thumb skirting around it to build herself up. ]
Perfect. Just like that. [ She praises softly, fingers scraping over his scalp to pet him like one might a pet. Perhaps that's degrading, but humiliation isn't what she hopes to yield. Simply put, it's a reward, tempering her authoritative bossiness with tender affection to keep him with her. ] You're doing so well, Ben.
[ Eventually, she has to remove that hand to follow his earlier request. Her fingers slip between her folds, honeyed from arousal, to spread herself open to his gaze. Like that, he can see clearly the stroke of her index finger as it sinks knuckle-deep into her cunt, pulling a low, hoarse groan that sounds as though it came from the depths of her chest. ]
Is this what you wanted to see? You want to see me fuck my tight little cunt for you? [ She doesn't waste time in teasing herself, sliding another finger inside of herself and rocking down, clenching down around them as she drives and twists them up inside of her too viciously to pretend she isn't a dripping, desperate mess. ] Maybe next time I'll ride your fingers instead. Make you keep them still while I use them however I want, fuck them like their my personal toy.
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His face is flushed bright red with wanting, a thin sheen of sweat causing him to shine under the low light of his bedroom. His mouth falls open as she adds a second finger, and he watches as her cunt squeezes around it, stretches to fit. The uneven penetration of two fingers gives him a faint glimpse of the first centimeter of her inner walls, slick and swollen and shining with arousal. Pulsing.
He has all but lost track of what she is saying, entranced by the vigorous thrusting of her fingers, the wet sounds she makes as she pumps them in and out, the way her slick dribbles down her knuckles, leaving a telling shine on her hand. He wants to lap it up, taste her, suck on her clit until she's thrashing and screaming his name. But he can't. He can't have that yet. ]
I'm all yours, Rey.
[ He starts with that because it sounds like a safe answer, and he's still grappling with what else he can say that won't challenge her, won't assert himself over her. If he doesn't say something, though, and she starts making noise, he's going to come in his pants. He has to get out of his own head, stop imagining his cock buried there, spreading her wide. ]
Use me however you want. You're so fucking pretty. You've got a perfect cunt. [ He licks his lips, as though absently wondering if he might be able to get her close enough to taste. ] Will you show me how you play with your clit? I shouldn't have left you waiting. I was selfish, wanting to see this.
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They're too small to satisfy. Curling her fingers barely strikes against that rough patch of nerve-endings on the interior of her walls, but it elicits a weaker full-body shudder, legs shaking from the force of it and the continued exertion involved in holding herself up. A palm slaps down above his head, between his arms, to ease some of the weight off of her knees. With that new arrangement, she curves over him, but never once do her fingers pause.
Instead, she obliges, thumb tapping against her clit. All it takes is that bare contact for her to moan and nearly leap out of her skin. Too soon. She's going to come so humiliatingly, embarrassingly easy, from the encouragement of his begging and the sight of him alone. Having waited too long to delay her gratification again, she draws slow circles into it, rocking her hips in tandem with the pace she's set. ]
Fuck. [ It's little more than a hiss out of her lungs, knuckles straining as she gathers the bedding in her fist, sufficiently rumpling it as she futilely anchors herself. ] Fuck. God, Ben. I'm going to come for you already.
[ At this point, she has to wonder if he's a goddamn magician. No one has gotten her off so quickly just by existing in the same space she has, rumbling out filth to make her sob and shake. Even then, she knows it won't be enough to satisfy. Nothing will be until she has him completely. It's a matter of tiring herself out, then; one orgasm won't mean that she's done with him for the night. ]
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Certainly his hips strain upwards, bucking futilely in search of some friction. He aches to adjust himself, the severity of his erection trending towards pain as his cock fills, agonizingly hard now. Burning with need. He groans for her, celebrating the noises she makes, which he can commit to memory, use later to feed his own pleasure. ]
Please.
[ For once, he's not even twisting himself into that submissive space. He slides directly there, straining. ]
Go on, Rey. Come for me. I want to see you come apart. [ He's babbling. He doesn't stop himself because right now his voice is all he has to help her get off. ] I want to lick your fingers clean. You smell so fucking good; I can't wait to taste that sweet cunt of yours. It's going to be mine, Rey. All mine.
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[ On the cusp of her climax, she resorts to that mindless babble, too far gone to even take note of what's emerging from her mouth. She can only hear her own choked cries ringing in her eardrums, the slick wetness that squelches as she impales herself on an added finger, struggling for that fullness. It isn't his cock, thick and tenting his trousers, but it'll have to do.
It'll have to do.
Those three fingers rest inside of her as she devotes all of her attention to strumming her clit, removing her hand from the sheets to twist it into his hair. The grasp is too tight, forceful, what she had been aiming to avoid in easing him into a submissive role. But she can't relinquish her strength, grounding herself with him, as she finally shakes apart. The force of it nearly knocks her over, as though her body is expressing its dissatisfaction at her earlier refusal to come, but resilience keeps her upright.
Resilience, however, can't stop the quivering of the muscles in her thighs even in the aftershocks. Her fingers are soaked beyond what she's ever known them to be, and her cunt continues to throb and pulse in protest of the sudden emptiness, but she settles back to sit on his shoulders. The initial impression she gives is one of cruelty when she swipes her tongue over her fingers, but they're still dripping, even as she leans in to slide her tongue into his mouth, flicking against the roof of it to impart the taste on him. ]
You did so well. [ It's partially muffled by her next press in, nipping at his mouth, but she can't bring herself to separate from him. ] But I'm not done with you yet. Can you do more for me, Ben?
[ She has to ask, check in him with. She won't keep him chained and crazed if he can't take it any farther. ]
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Instead he drinks down the kiss she gives him, sucking at her tongue as though he could get more of that tang off of it. He can't. It's just the hint of her on his mouth, but it's the sweetest flavor he's ever tasted. He leans up to chase the kiss, trying to hold her there, trying to drink her down, but she chastens it, murmurs against him, and he's left groaning. ]
Rey.
[ His voice is a husky rasp, something muted, thrilled by the undercurrent of anticipation that runs throughout it. He gives another helpless thrust up of his hips. He doesn't know what to tell her, doesn't know if he can take it if she doesn't touch him. He trembles. Aches. He's never known this side of it, the denial, the anticipation.
God, he's not even going to get to touch her. It devastates him, acknowledging that. When he comes out the other end of it, he doesn't' get her mouth on his cock — or her cunt. He gets his own hand, same as ever. He could weep with it. ]
Whatever you want.
[ It's worse for her, he decides. It's worse that she has felt he doesn't really want her. Let her see how it wrecks him to be this close to her and be denied. ]
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It's a power rush, certainly, for a woman that has often felt trapped. Who has only felt free in being able to pursue an education away from Plutt, and even then he demands her skills in his arsenal. But it's the foundation of trust that allows for her to pin Ben and take what she wants from this. She would be failing him if she didn't account for the possibility that he may not have the capacity for — well, there's no kind way to say being tormented. That's precisely what this is.
Regardless, it's as much a means of meeting her needs as it is taking care of him, ensuring he feels safe, cherished. When he provides her with that answer, and she stops to gauge the sincerity of it, she simply nods and leans over him to plant her lips against his forehead. ]
You're always so good to me, giving me whatever I want. [ Trying to take care of her. Outside of a sexual or affectionate realm, it's been frustrating. Inside of it, however, it always makes her stomach clench with delight. ] I'm going to use your cock now, Ben. I'm going to soak your pants.
[ True to her word, she does slither down his body to settle in his lap, sliding her wet cunt along the outline of his erection. The fabric of his pants is coarse against her still sensitive clit, but the damp patch is unmistakable when she looks down, lip tucked between her teeth as she admires the sight.
But she does manage to break that spell of captivation after a few rolls of her hips — a slow, barely-there pressure, when she's still throbbing from overstimulation — to grasp his chin and guide him to ensure he's watching her face, meeting her eyes when she next speaks, hoarse and scratchy. ]
If you don't come from this, I'll let you paint my face with your cum, just like I promised. [ She pauses, reconsiders, never once stopping the delicate motions of her hips. More like an easy wave, ebbing and flowing. Maybe he needs more motivation than that, and she is more than inclined to reward him. ] No. I'll let you come wherever you want. My face, my tits, all over my cunt — [ She punctuates that with a fiercer press of her hips but has to relent when her eyes dare to roll back in her head from it. ] Wherever you want, Ben. Would you like that?
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The weight also draws his attention to the wet spot that he's already made on the inside of his boxers, presses the fabric to his skin, and that sends a shiver that prickles into gooseflesh on his neck and shoulders and upper arms. His cock is weeping, desperate for this attention. He gives a firm buck of his hips up to strain against her, to try and seek out the friction she needs, to give it to her. ]
Fuck, Rey. [ He's gasping, panting, writhing beneath her like he's in fucking heat. It's the best thing he's ever felt, and she's just dry-humping him. Through his fucking pants. It's — God. He feels like a teenager, some simpering virgin, ready to blow his load because he saw tits for the first time.
He's trying. He's trying so fucking hard, especially now that she's gripping his jaw, trying to promise her anything else. He's trying to remember the opening to his dissertation. If anything's going to stop him from blowing his load, it's philosophy. In matters of ethics, intent can be divided into… What comes after that? He'd edited the sentence so many times he— ]
Look at you. [ He can't believe it. There's no way, of course, for her to look at herself. There's no mirror in his bedroom. But he's staring at her like she hung the fucking moon. His dissertation's gone. He's fucking gone.
Thinking of how good she's going to look with his cum smeared all over her, how good she'd feel squeezing around his cock when she came. Oh, she'd get there. He knows that now. Friction is all well and good, yeah, but Rey's about penetration. She's getting off just as much on the promise of his cock as she is on the actual friction of rubbing together. ] Perfect. Incredible.
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'blackboard discussions' just gave me ptsd flashbacks
you're welcome
pure evil
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