sampippy | Outside Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Thursday

Hyacinthe took a moment to consider the question, his hand moving aside. "Good with it?" he asked, cupping her face and pulling her in for a kiss. "No. I want so badly to be inside of you, dragging more of those noises from your throat." He would always give her honesty, at least. "But I'm a man grown and if this is what I get?" He shrugged. "I still get to come with the taste of you on my lips and the scent of you on my cock."

Xanthippe appreciated his honesty. Especially when it was descriptive like this, but otherwise, too. She kissed him back, slowly, savoring the words he'd just said.

Licking his bottom lip was a strange thrill after those specific words, too. And if that wasn't enough to get a new bout of restlessness brewing in the pit of her stomach, the way her hand slid down his abs would certainly help with that. There was a moment of hesitation where she prayed to whoever was listening that she wouldn't somehow screw this up - yes, she was coherent enough right now to be back to at least a low-level version of her usual fear of looking like an idiot - but then her hand wrapped around his cock. And she gasped against his lips, because looking and feeling were two very different things. And to feel more, she did her best to mimic what she'd seen him do just a second ago when he'd stroked himself.

"You want to screw me?" she asked, murmuring the words. They both knew he did, he'd just said so. It was just hot enough that she wanted to hear it again.

Hyacinthe's breath hissed out between clenched teeth at her touch and it took him a moment to be able to speak again. He didn't know whether to tell her to stop or beg for more.

But he did know when someone was looking for words. He was the Prince of Travelers, words were his stock in trade. "No," he said, with a small shake of his head. "'Tis too mild a word for what I want to do to you. I want to fuck you, Xanthippe, until we're both lying exhausted on your bed, unable to move. I want to move inside you, feel your heat, have your hands on me urging me on and demanding more. I want to thrust into you slowly until you roll me over and ride me because you need it harder. I want my mouth on your nipples and my thumb on your pearl and my phallus buried deep inside you, all at once."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "But do you want only for me to screw you, well, I suppose I can manage that, too."

See? Fishing for more words was clearly never a bad course of action with him. With the way her breath hitched and her hand faltered on his cock, he might as well have just touched her.

Her boneless post-orgasm haze was just completely gone.

"N-no," she said, before she got her voice somewhat under control. She licked her lip. "No, I want you to fuck me." she sounded pretty adamant about that, now. She maybe didn't have as good a handle on talking dirty but at least she could try and be clear about her enthusiastic consent. "Like, right now. All of that. Oh my god, I need you inside me."

"Oh, thank Blessed Elua and all of his Companions," Hyacinthe groaned. He eyed her a minute and then caught her up in his arms, sliding them further on her bed. He'd not been kidding when he mentioned how much he'd like her to ride him, but he thought this time she'd likely be more comfortable on her back.

Perhaps the oldest way of making love, but certainly not boring.

"You've your hand on me," he noted. "Guide me in, Xan, and I'll give you everything that you're hoping for."

They had time for riding later, anyway. And if they ran out of it, well, he was more than welcome to visit her again later so they could do cover what they'd missed. She was probably going to be stuck in Connecticut for half the summer, anyway, so she was going to be starved for interesting things.

Like learning all there was to learn about riding him, yes.

"Oh, um." Holy shit, did she ever just want to guide him in right this second. But the responsible part of her brain remembered that right about now was a good time to use her free hand to reach for the nightstand.

... Then sadly - though only momentarily! - pull her other hand away from him, because she needed both hands to tear the wrapper.

"Ah yes," he said, once again sounding sheepish. "My apologies, cherie. Had not meant to be careless with you."

He just tended to forget that these things were necessary here. D'Angeline girls had to light a candle to Eisheth to open their wombs and the ills passed by a romp stayed far from their borders.

"Will you put it on me?" So help him, he just wanted her hand back.

Xanthippe reached up for a quick kiss, which was definitely for something, but she would not say what.

Also there was yet another reason or her to be envious of D'Angeline girls.

But whatever. "Yeah," she mumbled, with the air of someone both nervous to do something as well as in a hurry to get it done, because good things were waiting. She reached for him again. There was some fumbling, and you couldn't have mistaken her for someone with a ton of experience rolling condoms onto actual penises, but she got through it. And rewarded his patience with a couple of firmer strokes.

And then, then she got to shift a little, sliding her legs further apart, and she could finally guide him to her. The tip of his cock bumped against her clit as she was lining him up and just that sensation alone told her this was exactly what she needed right now. Quickly followed by her guiding his cock just that little bit further down where she was slippery between the folds. Ready and waiting.

How many of her lovers had conveniently 'forgotten' condoms, or worse yet, tried to convince her to go without.

Maybe she just needed a better school.

Those firmer strokes had any notice of her inexperience flying out the window. And once she had him brushing up against her, well, there wasn't really room for thoughts at all. Another time, he might have her rub him over herself more, slicking him up, but the two of them were both so ready that even that slight delay might be his breaking point. "Yes," he said in a dark murmur, pressing his hips forward. Pressing himself home.

They could work on all that trasing stuff later. And at length. But the truth was, if he hadn't thrust in as quick as he did, she wasn't sure what she would've done.

But they didn't have to find out. Instead, he got to hear her give out another moan as she felt herself stretch to surround him. Her hand slid away from between them, and up to his shoukder where her nails dug into his skin. One of her legs moved to anchor itself over his hip.

"Oh," she gasped. Just that little sound of a word, for now.

"Mmm," Hyacinthe agreed, out of clever words at last. His sigh was loud in her ear before he leaned in to press a kiss against it. His hand found her leg, the skin silky soft beneath his palm, and he squeezed in appreciation and affection both. She'd be able to feel the quiet strength in him as his lean hips flexed over her, pushing in so far he bottomed out, and then slowly pulling away. "You feel so--oh, sweet Elua," he mumbled, his compliment lost in another loud groan.

Words were difficult right now, Xanthippe was well aware of that. Complete sentences? Forget about it. Her entire body felt tingly, though it was more pronounced where they were connected, obviously. She whimpered again when he began pulling back.

Her other hand ended up on the back of his neck, and she craned her neck for her lips to find his because a haphazard kiss would probably also convey what words were failing at.

Oooh, smart Xanthippe, yes. Hyacinthe leaned down at the same time he pushed back into her, his weight adding extra pressure to the thrust. He caught her mouth with only a slight need to realign to kiss her properly, mouth opening for hers with barely a moment's pause. He was tempted to tangle his free hand in her long hair, but it was lured away by her breast instead, giving it the same attention she had.

This felt amazing. She felt amazing. How could anyone this lush and tight have any concerns about sex at all? Did she not know what a wonder she was?

It was a combination of poor self-esteem and being trapped in a particularly vicious kind of sexual culture. Probably shouldn't have spent all of high school chasing the acceptance of the Cool Kids, in retrospect.

Because he felt amazing, too. Sure, it'd been great the first time, too, but this was still different. She was just a bit more relaxed, just a bit more willing to lean into the pleasure of it all rather than second-guessing herself at every turn. That made it a lot easier to appreciate how well he was filling her up, and how the weight of him on top of her felt hot rather than like a trap, and how his hand on her breast immediately brought a new layer of sensation to the whole thing.

How was she supposed to let him leave once his visit was supposed to be done?

Her nails dug into the back of his neck. Her teeth found his bottom lip and worried it between them.

Chasing coolness at Fandom was a ridiculous proposition anyway--and still far better than at whatever school she'd gone to first.

He was glad that Xanthippe had shed some of her brittle self-chastisement now. She was focusing on the important things: her, him, the pleasure spilling between them. Now was not the time to be worried about what he was thinking--it was not time to be thinking at all.

Hyacinthe gripped her leg more tightly and eased it up, closer to her chest, giving him more room to push into her. His tempo was increasing, rocking into her harder, faster, deeper. D'Angeline spilled from his lips and a harsher, more guttural language. 'Twas hard to keep speaking his third tongue in moments like these.

Especially when the tongue he was born with wanted to be wrapped around one of those sweet, pink nipples of hers.

Oh, his tongue was welcome anywhere on her. Within reason, anyway, because if he somehow got the idiotic idea that he needed to pull his cock out to get his tongue somewhere, she'd be annoyed.

But judging from his quickening pace, that was not an issue she would have to worry about. Her gasped and moaned words were all in English, but they were fragmented, mumbly, breathless. Repetitions of his name, adjectives that served as compliments all on their own (because what else would hard and thick possibly be under these circumstances?) and the different iterations of 'please, please' that were getting more and more frequent.

And 'please' what? It was safe to assume the answer was just more. Ever harder, faster, deeper. She didn't think she was going to last very long but as long as she did, she wanted him to keep hammering into her to the hilt.

In fact, some of that thought made it out of her mouth, as well. Enough that he would be able to fill in the rest.

Aahahahahano. No worries there, Xanthippe; Hyacinthe was only human and there would be no pulling out to try to pleasure her some other way. He wasn't that selfless.

But her half-choked requests for more? That he could--and so happily would--do. He tugged on her again, like he could somehow bring her closer still, hips snapping into her with his lithe strength. With this kind of enthusiasm, he couldn't wait to get under her, so watch her just let go.

Of course, watching her let go in any position was high on his priorities right now.

He sucked hard on her nipple, a little rougher now than when they'd started. But his lips were soft when he kissed his way back to the other, anxious to leave neither unappreciated for long.

Getting to watch her let go in this position seemed pretty imminent. Not there yet, but getting closer with each relentless thrust. She was squirming underneath him, trying to tilt her hips just so, instinctively looking for that little extra bit of friction. As if she could get any closer to him.

The hand that had been on his neck ended up back in his hair. Hopefully he enjoyed some random tugging, and if he didn't, well, it was his own fault for having such great hair for grabbing. She needed something to hold onto! Roughly.

There weren't many words left in her moans anymore.

Oh yes. Hyacinthe quite liked random tugging. And not so random. Especially when it meant that the pretty girl beneath him was close. But he needed her more than close. He needed her there.

"Come for me, Xan," he murmured in her ear. "I want to see you lose it. I want to feel you come on my cock, cherie. Elua, you're already so wet and tight, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it."

He yearned into her, barely pulling out before slamming back into her, leaving gentleness behind, nearly mindless with the pleasure of just being inside of her.

And to think that just before he said all that, Xanthippe wouldn't have thought she could get any more turned on than she'd already been. Guess she was wrong. And how spectacularly so, because hearing him say those words - words that she was going to be thinking back to when she was alone and needing... inspiration - just seemed to push everything into an even heightened level, every sensation turned up to eleven.

And when that was combined with the physical change for the rougher, well. Since he wanted to see her lose it, he was in luck. She held on for several thrusts, her ragged moans getting a fraction louder with each one - and then unraveled, choking on air as the orgasm hit her, leaving her gasping and clinging to him as she did exactly what he'd wanted her to.

He felt her clench all around him and Hyacinthe couldn't help but give a needy, broken cry. Blessed Elua, she felt wonderful. Even imagining it hadn't come close to the reality. He fucked her straight through her orgasm, not stopping, for three, four, five hard strokes--

Before he too gave into his need and came hard, his hand in her hair and her name on his lips.

So that was what it felt like to get fucked roughky when you were already coming: overwhelming, in the absolute best way. It drew the orgasm out for her, making her shudder and whimper until she could see and hear and feel him come apart on top of her.

He was beautiful like that, by the way. Although everything seemed beautiful to her right now, as she was panting and coming down from her high.

She was counting herself in that assessment, correct? Because to Hyacinthe, she was the most beautiful thing in the room. He sprawled across her, panting and replete, his forehead touching hers and gave Xanthippe a bright, roguish smile--one that was a little tired and dopey around the edges.

That had taken a fair bit out of him, yes.

"You are exceptional," he murmured, stroking a curl between his fingers.

"I'm pretty sure you say that to, like, everyone," Xanthippe mumbled. But her smile was on the soft side all the same. Because even if he did say that to everyone, he was still saying that to her, right now, so she was allowed to feel good about it.

"I should probably be saying it back to you, too."

"Not hardly!" he said with a laugh. "No more than I use the same endearments for people, cherie. That's...what 'tis the word? Tacky? I tell you that you are exceptional because you are," he said, his thumb tracing over her lips. "You are not forgettable, Xanthippe. Were you, I'd not be here. But I am, because I wanted to get to know you better."

He grinned, nuzzling her neck. "And enjoy you more," he added. "Cannot say that did not cross my mind."

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