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

"Depends on how nicely... you ask."

Or how well he put her in a mindset where she felt comfortable to share. But judging by how haltingly that came out because halfway through her eyes fluttered closed, because his mouth on her breast was another thing she'd missed? It wasn't actually going to be much of a problem.

Hyacinthe didn't point out he was very good at asking nicely. He rather thought he was demonstrating the point.

With one last hard suck on the first breast, he kissed and licked his way over to the second, intent on giving it the same treatment. He wanted her soft and moaning, already imagining that first deep thrust up into her on the couch.

Xanthippe'd kind of been imagining it since the moment she'd brought the idea up to him, no lie.

The hand she'd had on his cock had become kind of useless in her distraction, but that was probably okay. He'd get more than enough attention later on. Right now, she shifted to press that hand against the couch as well, as a little moan escaped her lips.

And then she pried her eyes open to actually watch him, and that caused another sound, this one more of a gasped whimper.

Hya glanced up, catching her eyes with his and grinned at her around her nipple, face a study in lust and mischief.

And with her hand no longer making him stupid, he was free to use his own, unbuttoning her pants to ease them down her hips as far as he could.

"When I touch you, cherie, will I find you wet?" he asked, lips close enough to brush over her taut nipple with every word. "Wet enough to take me up?"

You know, she was actually so hypnotized by watching his mouth move against her that it took several seconds for it to register that he'd actually spoken to her. Like, she had to blink a couple of times as the words echoed in her head, hoping to actually be processed.

Thankfully most things he said were well worth thinking over.

"Oh, my God," she said, looking back up into his eyes rather than staring at his mouth, her own eyes wide like he'd asked a dumb question, "what do you think? Like maybe I haven't been that wet since before we made it onto this couch?"

Probably not, but it had felt that way. And by now, it was also definitely 100% true. Also, she was trying another little smirk on for size. "But I think you should make sure," she said, nodding. "You know, just in case."

"I think you're right," he said, sliding a hand down her stomach towards the hem of her underwear. "I do need to verify. Because I won't let you sink down on my cock until you're absolutely, exquisitely wet."

His hand slid beneath the fabric, between her legs, and then plunged into her fold, gliding over her pearl and to her entrance.

What were his requirements for what qualified as 'absolutely, exquisitely wet'? Because his fingers found no resistance; she was hot and slick and inviting, and the fabric against the back of his hand a little on the damp side.

"Oh, shit," she gasped, eloquently, first for the feel of his fingers moving over the bump of her clit, and then inside her. Her hips ground down against his hand.

Wetter than that.

Or maybe that was just an excuse for him to thrust up into her with his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles around that bundle of nerves. "You make the most delicious noises, Xanthippe."

Cherie had risen to his tongue first, but she really liked it when he whispered her name.

Xanthippe liked cherie too, adored it, even. But he was right, she had a definite and special fondness for hearing her name. Maybe it was the utter specificity of it: it was undoubtedly just hers.

Also, excuse or not, she was probably getting wetter by the second around his fingers. "Yeah?" she gasped. "Maybe you'll have to keep making me make them."

"A worthy goal to work towards," Hyacinthe rasped, his phallus sweetly aching for the joy his fingers were experiencing now. "Ahh, Xan, I want to make you cry out a hundred times but I need you too much to draw it out now..."

"Good," Xanthippe replied, biting her lip with another haphazard roll of her hips against his hand. "I don't want you to draw it out, I want you to put it in."

Apparently her newfound confidence in verbalizing her needs and wants came with a sideorder of really unskilled puns. Also she probably needed to do a couple of things - like get rid of the rest of her clothes - before he could do that. But it was surprisingly fun to say!

Hyacinthe laughed, but it got lost in him pulling her close for another hot kiss. "Take off your clothing," he said. "I want to look at you whilst I fuck you," he said, his fingers punctuating every word.

That was a great way to get another noise out of her! This time it was a whine, in the back of her neck. She was not proud of it, but it did convey some kind of a protest about how she was supposed to do that when his fingers felt so good and his words were so hot, not to mention the kiss.

But, somehow, after a moment of getting lost in kissing him, she did actually pull back. And off his lap (and away from his hand, sigh), because she needed to stand up to get her clothes off. It was mostly just the jeans and the underwear that she needed to get the rest of the way down her legs and off.

And while she had little interest in making a whole number out of this - the way he'd stripped himself last time - she did take one leaf from his book, which was that she kept looking in his eyes while she was getting naked. Which was probably something Xan from a year ago wouldn't have done, at least not without stumbling.

He was glad of it. Not just because it was incredibly hot but also because it meant she was watching when he leisurely cleaned off every finger with his tongue, moaning a little at the taste of her.

Pushing his jeans down the rest of the way was harder with only one hand, but it was worth it to take his time, eyes locked with hers.

See, yeah, that was exactly the kind of thing that almost made her literally stumble as she was kicking the jeans off her feet. That had no right being as hot as it was.

But her jeans were off, her panties were off, he'd taken care of her bra a long while ago and honestly, who even knew when her shirt had come off but it was like the least surprising thing that she'd lost it shortly after he'd arrived. And so she was naked, and crawling right back onto his lap, where she reached to drag his shirt off, because maybe she wanted to look at him whilst she was fucking him, too!

He was just fine with that, pulling the colorful chambray over his head with complete disregard for any of the buttons. And then with a bit of sleight-of-hand, he produced a condom, holding it up between his fingers. "Would you do the honors, cherie?" he asked. "For the very selfish reason of wanting your hands on me again."

... And just like that, he'd won the award for Sexiest Producing of Condom (from out of thin air or otherwise). Though to be fair, she was far more used to fielding immediately disqualifying entries such as the perennial 'but do we really need one?'

Still, it was hot, and her rough little laugh attested to that as she took the condom from him. She tore the wrapper carefully, then tossed it aside (hoping to remember to pick it up later or she was going to get yelled at by her roommates) so she could reach for him again.

And because he'd earned it, she gave him another few quick strokes before actually rolling the condom on him. But then she did, and once she had? Well, she wasn't interested in waiting around, so she was already shifting to line their hips up.

The concept was still foreign to Hya; in Terre D'Ange there were no need of such sheaths. But here, there were no blessings of Eisheth and so he had become accustomed to their use. And would hardly expect Xan to do otherwise - and certainly not insist.

And if his reward was a bit of rough relief? All the better.

He guided himself up, just breaching her entrance before he let go, bringing his hands up to grip her hips instead. "Hard?" he asked, looking for confirmation before dragging her down into his lap.

Xanthippe's hands ended up on his shoulders, for now, and while almost all of her focus was going towards the anticipation around their hips and the very already-present sensation of just the tip of his cock at her entrance that made her muscles flutter in response, she could still also appreciate the feel of muscles under his skin, under her hands.

She bit her lip again. "Uh huh." It was about as eloquent an answer as the question had been.

He pulled her down, snapping his hips up to meet her halfway, his groan loud as he felt the sweet relief of being surrounded by her, soft and wet and lax with need.

"Ride me, Xanthippe," he sighed, still holding onto her.

His groan mixed wonderfully with her moan, which maybe wasn't as loud but was still just as full of feeling. If lust and the initial rush of fulfilling a craving counted as feelings.

Because she'd developed a definite craving for the sensation of his cock filling her up since he'd shown up behind her door. And somehow it felt even better than she'd imagined, or than she remembered.

She didn't have a pithy quip to offer. But she could pull her hips up some, a little slow only because she was getting familiar with the movement. The thrust down to meet his hips again was decidedly quicker. "Oh, Jesus."

Hya kept his hands on her hips, helping guide her to the rhythm until he felt her taking over, moving under her own power. Then his hands stayed there, just holding on while he slid into her. Every slide out was an agony until her warmth was surrounding him again. "I think...cherie," he panted in her ear, "...you should stay naked for the whole time I am here, and I'll devote myself to finding new ways to make you cry out that way."

He remained the only person she knew who could use words like 'devote' in this context and not sound hopelessly hokey.

Her very thoughtful response was kind of a 'hnng', followed by a laugh that was more of a rough bark. "Maybe?" she said, right before another slide down on his cock that made her other words come out more haltingly. "Guess you don't wanna go... for a walk across campus."

It was the accent.

"What else is there to see that could possibly compare to this?" he asked, his hand sliding down to play with her pearl once more, just to complete the picture.

It was the accent, yeah.

Whereas Xanthippe's own unremarkable Manhattan drawl decided to just turn into a full-on verbal keysmash for a second. Like, no words, just an incoherent noise. So, guess she was sensitive right now, good to know.

Definitely made the thrusts a little more erratic too, for at least the length of one or two of them.

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