sampippy | A Dorm Room at Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Sunday

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A Dorm Room at Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Sunday

Xanthippe was officially Stressed Out.

It was all over an essay, which wasn't even due until next Friday, but it was important and she had to get it perfect, because what if she didn't? What if she didn't, and she flunked out of the class, and she flunked right out of college, and her father would disown her and her mother would disown her and then she would have to move in with Kimmy and deal with that whole freak show and she would lose all status and purpose in life and probably, like, end up becoming BFFs with Kimmy's extra-weirdo landlady and getting matching tattoos in a crack den and --

Anyway, yeah, she was currently doing what any self-respecting college student would do in her situation: screaming into a pillow.

Thank Christ her roommates weren't home right now.

[ooc: NFB but open for texts/calls/surprise visits!]

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Judging by the raspy laugh as her head went backwards, that was exactly how she wanted to play it.

"Aren't you the one who got a little huffy about me saying you got too far gone, before?" she asked, taking the chance to wet her lips, which was in no way also an excuse to draw his attention to her lips and her tongue (like it wasn't there already). "And yet, here we are again."

"Keep this up, Xan, and I'll show you exactly what I can do to that mouth of yours," Hyacinthe declared, grinning a bit.

Turned out he really liked it when Xan decided to play, too.

And that grin made Xan feel like she was definitely doing something right, here.

Which was not dissuading her from continuing on the same path. So, she snorted. "You're all talk," she rasped, laying the derision on thick even as a smirk tugged on her lips. "Guys usually are."

But he was not.

"Last chance," he warned, wrapping her hair over his fist until it was snug against the base of her skull. "Apologize and perhaps I won't take your mouth as hard and heavy as I please. Won't make you slap my leg thrice to wordlessly beg me to stop."

Threats and warnings were all part of the game, but he wanted to make sure she knew she had a way to call it all to a halt, even if she could not speak.

Was he sure he had to go home and not stay with her forever? Preferably in bed. Because goddamn.

She couldn't even tell how much of the shivers down her spine were for the threats abd how much for the consideration right under the surface. She only barely kept herself from whimpering.

Okay, no, a little bit escaped. But apart from that, she stayed defiant. "No," she said, even shaking her head - though only as little as his grip allowed. "I don't have anything to apologize for. And even if I did, you haven't earned one."

"Mayhaps not," he admitted, "but you have earned this."

And with more care than the harsh tone of his voice would suggest, he pulled her face down, angling himself up towards her mouth.

Don't bet on that gentleness lasting terribly long, Xan. They both knew what was coming, he just wanted to make sure she was ready for it.

Just like she expected him to, by now.

She made to resist his cock, even if it was for just a few seconds of letting the head bump against her closed lips before they parted for him, her eagerness showing through her feigned resistant act as she sucked him down.

And yes, she was readying herself for what was coming, for what she'd offered and what she'd found herself wanting to experience. Doing her best to relax her throat, and bringing both her hands against the edge of the bed on either side of him.

He murmured something to her in liquid French, filthy endearments and encouragement falling from his lips. He pushed her hair away from her face, smiled down at her...

And then fucked deeply into her mouth with one smooth, long motion. And then didn't stop.

Loss of control was a heady feeling. And trust was one, too. Because that was what this was, right? Her trusting him to stay on the good side of sleazy.

While letting him use her like a toy.

The moan mixed with something of a soft gagging sound at the first thrust probably did well to encapsulate both parts of this. Her eyes, looking up at him, were big and dark, and she was not pulling away from the motions of his hips.

Going from Mean Girl to good girl was easy because he made it easy.

Was it wrong that little gag made him swell a little harder?

His hand traveled to the back of her head, knotting there at the base to keep her head still - and, every so often, to pull her forward, to thrust in deeper. "You like this," he murmured, every word a soft caress. "I can see it in your eyes. Such a filthy girl, to get off on this so much."

His voice was warm and full of pride. "Letting me use this lush mouth of yours over and over again...just to pull away and spend all over your perfect, pretty tits. Letting me mark you. I bet you're so wet for all this, I'll need to use that toy again. Bend you over the bed and fuck you with it..."

It was getting harder to focus on what he was saying, each thrust getting him closer to unraveling.

It was only wrong if it was also wrong that it made her feel a throb between her legs. Honestly, it was for the best for them both to be attracted to the sound and feel of it, because the gagging was hardly an isolated incident. It wasn't anywhere near every thrust, but especially when he pulled her head closer, well, it was only natural.

And, Jesus Christ, sweet Elua, whoever -- this was a whole new mindset for her, a whole new state of mind to be in, where so many things seemed like she shouldn't have been into them but she was, from the hand gripping her hair and the gagging around his cock, to the way her chin bumped against his balls when he thrust in deep.

The obvious pride in his voice was a contrast to everything, and even though in the heat of the moment she didn't need one, it also felt like permission, like affirmation that it was okay for her to be as wet from this as she was, that it was okay not to care that there was maybe an excess of saliva happening, that it was okay to pretty much be craving and anticipating the warmth of his come on her breasts.

Yeah, he was 100% correct about the need for the toy.

The moan around him was involuntary, and as loud as it was muffled, and the big eyes looking up at him blinked several times and looked almost pleading.

"Or maybe you don't want the toy," Hyacinthe said, voice ragged. Everything around him was warmth and wetness - that excess of saliva just made it slipperier and therefore sweeter - and he knew better than to think he had long. "Maybe you don't even want me to fuck between your sweet breasts. Maybe you want me to pull out of you mouth, push you facedown into the mattress, and fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked in your life."

He thrust into her extra deep then, her chin against his sac an extra torment, they were so high and tight and sensitive.

The first thing he was going to do when this was all over was gather her into his arms and teach her the word for 'magnificent' in all the languages he knew.

Oh, Xan definitely made a strangled gagging sound at that one, the way his cock bumped against the back of her throat.

The sound that followed was a whimpery moan because all his options sounded amazing, and she didn't have a way of communicating a preference, and she didn't even have a real desire to. She wanted him to do whatever the hell he pleased to her. She wanted to feel used and loved and overwhelmed, and he was going to accomplish all three no matter what he did, because he was already accomplishing all of them.

Hyacinthe thought about it for a few more strokes. And then realized that if he thought about it much longer, the decision would be made for him.

"Your mouth is a menace," he growled, pulling her off of him. His cock glistened in the light from her room, a deep red and possibly harder than he'd been in his life. And he didn't give up his grip, either, first angling her face so she'd have to look at his dick, see what she'd done to it, and then dragging her carefully up to the bed. "I want to come deep inside you," he whispered in her ear.

His hands reached for a condom, trembling almost too badly to open it. In times like this, he was very much aware of how not second-nature these were to him, even now. "Bend forward," he ordered. "And spread yourself open for me. I want to see your pretty cunt before I claim it."

Her eyes had been big before, but somehow they went wider still when presented with the evidence of her effect on him because yeah, that was -- that was like a snapshot from porn, except this was her actual life, this was happening, he was that hard from thrusting into her mouth.

She whimpered.

... And again, at his whispered words.

Her jaw ached and she didn't even notice. Her mouth was free but words seemed to have deserted her. His were the ones that mattered, right now. She dropped to her knees on the edge of bed, then bent forward, using her hands for support only until the side of her face was pressing against the mattress. Her knees were spread far apart, and her ass was in the air, and she reached back with slightly trembling hands to spread herself further, expose more of herself to him. For him.

Between her legs, she was wet to a glistening, and puffy from all the bloodflow in an opposite direction from her brain. They were a matching set of a sort.

With a groan, Hyacinthe leaned over to give her an open-mouth kiss, right where she gleamed the brightest, his tongue brushing over her to claim some of that wetness for himself. It got all over him, until his face was just as shiny and damp as hers; his nose was pressed against her, his cheeks soaked in her.

He finished rolling on the condom, then reached up to hold her hips still, pulling her back against his mouth while his lips and tongue sought out her pearl, laving it over and over again. He needed a moment to come back away from the precipice, to make sure she was wet and lax and ready for him.

Because as soon as he knew he wouldn't spend on his first thrust, he was scrambling up to his feet and pushing inside of her with the same careful brutality that he'd claimed her fucking mouth.

The noises Xanthippe made when she felt his mouth, his face against her were not pretty or dignified and honestly even she didn't think they should be, because they were pure. Pure pleasure and pure need, and she pushed back against him some on instinct even before she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her back.

He was making an effort to pull himself back from the brink, but pushing her right up to it in the process, to the point where when she felt his cock enter her again - only moments since the last time yet with wholly different sensations involved - she was surprised she didn't unravel immediately. Her loud, fragmented moan said a lot about what stage she was at, though.

Actually, maybe it was more of a yell. No words, just... noise.

Her hands dropped back down on the bed, grabbing at something to hold on to. Also, yes: she was as slick and wet and open as she could be. When it came to that, harshness was not going to be an issue.

Edited 2019-05-21 18:14 (UTC)

Hyacinthe gripped her hips, hard enough to leave marks behind on her skin. That first thrust into her was like heaven, enough to make his head swim. He almost didn't want to pull back out, content to feel her move and clench around him.

But the aching clawing need she's stirred with her mouth wouldn't let him stay. He reared back, gripping her tighter, and practically slammed her onto his dick. Again and again and again he fucked into her, hard and relentless.

Sweat on his palm made his grip slip forward. No matter - he reached between her legs and pressed his fingers against her pearl, playing with that while he chased the completion he could feel rising up inside him.

Now Xanthippe was the one who was too far gone. She was gripping the sheets for dear life, and with the way her head was down her cheek rubbed against the bed on some thrusts, and she was making desperate, continuous keening noises. There was nothing in her world except the feel of his tight grip on her hips, his cock bottoming out inside her, his hips smacking against her ass over and over and over again. And the dirty thrill of it all, starting with her posture: head down, ass up.

She didn't really need the extra stimulation. The release was already on its way, but the first few seconds of him playing with her clit just sealed the deal. The sound she made as she tensed up was guttural. Then it dissolved into whimpers as she felt herself begin to pulse harshly around him, pleasure coursing through her veins and her ears filled with white noise for a second.

There was no way he could continue through that. Not with the way her whole body tightened, squeezing every inch of him and pulling him in deeper. Not with the noises she made ringing in his ears.

Not when he was already so close.

He gasped at first, feeling the electricity crawling down his spine. And then cried out her name as he emptied himself hard enough to make his back arch. For one wild moment, he wondered if the sheathe could hold it all.

And then, arms still wrapped around her, he slowly slid to the side, unable to keep himself upright. Or do anything more than lay back and breathe and wait for the world to right itself again.

Blessed Elua.

Yeah, Xan was just... slowly slumping down like a deflating balloon or something, until she was comfortably face and belly-down on the bed. Except it wasn't like, super comfortable, but whatever, it was good enough for someone who was still mostly focused on feeling the insistent throbbing between her legs as it was subsiding.

Sweet Jesus.

"I do believe I am done for awhile," Hyacinthe said with the lightest huff of a laugh. "And possibly in desperate need of a nap."

"And a shower," Xanthippe mumbled. She was sweaty and between the crying jag of earlier and the intensity of what they'd just been doing, her makeup was in complete ruins.

But that was definitely a post-nap thing. Judging by how she wasn't moving.

"More dinner," Hya added. "Meat."

The carbs had been great for lunch but, damn, after all that, they needed a serious refueling.

...Also after a nap. It was everything he could do to remove the condom and throw it away, fingers clumsy now with exhaustion.

"Rest?"

Xanthippe made a vague noise that was probably affirmative. That theory was also supported by how she put the rest of her remaining energy into inelegantly rolling so that she could curl up against his side. And then stay there. For rest.

She hadn't even bothered opening her eyes at any point. Or pull the strands of hair away from her face where they went right across it.

"Love you," she exhaled.

A Dorm Room at Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Sunday

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