The School Grounds

[Miss_Vivi]

The pain that moved over her chest was delicious, that it throbbed and danced and stung and left her a panting wreck was only a testament to his thoroughness.

His words, she barely heard, so happy she was for the momentary reprieve. The kiss a bruising reminder of where he had so unceremoniously placed her. Beneath him, in more ways than one.

Then the cane. The fucking cane.

"Stop!"

Seemingly she went unheard.

"No! No! No!"

Apparently he was deaf now. Though somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that stop and no, weren't safe words. That didn't stop them from slipping unbidden from her lips with each strike.

Then the tears. Those fucking tears.

Now she was a hot mess, and all the stops and no's were getting her nowhere. Even trying to wriggle away only tightened the hand in her hair. There was nothing for it, and the words forced themselves from behind her lips.

"Please, Sir no... please.. please Sir stop.. please... Please Sir..."

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Not deaf, of course, his hearing worked just as well as it had before walking into this room, but her cries still fell on deaf ears. All the words that spilled from her pleading lips were not the ones he wanted to hear, not the ones he told her would stop this, and so it continued.

The cane wooshed through the air, red stripes now decorating full and firm breasts. He was still hard, incredibly so, but he suspected at this point she'd have no sense of his cock against her, her brain overwhelmed by the firing of her other nerve endings.

The impact of the cane was moved, varied, spreading the angry red marks over her, occasionally tapping, occasionally outright striking with real force, but never the remaining at the same intensity or in the same spot.

His hand under her head was a fist, her curls in an iron grip, his body weight making sure that she went nowhere, despite how she may wriggle and struggle.

"Scream for me, girl..."

His voice was a whisper that floated to her through the sound of the cane meeting her flesh, and he repeated it as he poured his violence over her body.

"Let me hear it, little girl... Scream for me..."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

She wanted to defy him. To silence herself. To defy him. Openly. The brat in her roared for control, demanded it, but it was too late.

Turning her head towards where his forearm was, where she could muffle slightly the sound of pain that was about to escape her, and it did. Slightly. She was sure the sound was proof of his killing her.

It was done, she still whimpered with remaining tears, still panted for him to stop, but the scream had taken it out of her, and in some ways had silenced the brat within her.

For now, at least.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

A grin found his lips again, and despite the fact that she tried to fight it back, tried to muffle it, the sound that poured over her lips was undeniably a scream. A reprieve was given at that, though how short it would be depended entirely on her.

Leaning over her again, his lips move to her ear, his chest and the shirt that covers it pressed against her breasts as he does, and he can feel the heat radiating off of her even through the fabric.

"Are you ready to ask for what you want, girl?"

 

[Miss_Vivi]

A tango is what this had always been. Two steps forward, dip, pain, pleasure, spin, slide and turn.

"Are you ready to ask for what you want, girl?"

His shirt scrapes against her chest, she pants in agony.

Dip

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she can see the pleasure in his eyes.

Turn

Pant. "Are you ready to fuck your girl?

Slide

Whimper. "Are you ready to remind her who she belongs to?"

Spin

A finally freed and tingling hand from beneath him, sliding under a disheveled shirt, nails sliding up his chest.

Pause

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Her words draw a low, short, and humorless laugh from him. His head shakes slightly, cheek moving against hers.

"Anyone left in the building will know who you belong to when I'm done with you. But I see you haven't had enough still."

His head turns, and he licks her cheek slowly, his voice quieter still when it returned to her ear again.

"Good. I like the way you scream for me."

He slides off of her, pulling her up by her hair with him, and he gives her no time to get her bearings or balance after suddenly being back on her feet, pulling her quickly with him to a clear spot on her wall, and he pushes her against it, the stripes of crimson on her chest meeting the unyielding structure, and then he's behind her quickly, pressed close, his voice in her ear.

"On your toes."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

She suddenly against the wall and still panting, the cool plaster walls feel wonderful on her beaten breasts and she can actually breathe for the moment pressed there.

He's quickly pressed against her and whispering orders in her ear, for the moment she ignores him and delights in the knowledge that he is ragingly hard. It's almost enough to wiggle her bare ass against him, a subtle reminder of what he will have, if he could just put away the toys, and the sadistic bastard.

"On your toes."

She turns slightly, smiling.

"After you."

Another grin.

"Oh Sir... don't you think it'll be easier just to fuck your girl instead? All this hitting...so bourgeois, yes?"

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

He chuckles quietly, a small roll of his shoulders as he shrugs, as if resigned to accept the decision she made.

He replied to none of what she says, and instead simply moves to the side, and the cane finds a new place to do it's work.

Her hair in his fist, he pulls up as if trying to lift her by the hair, and the increasing intensity of the tapping cane begins, this time on the previously unblemished curve of her ass.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Any other time and this would have been defeat. Any other girl who submission meant blank nods followed by even more eager yes sirs. She'd stand against the wall and take three swats before spilling her wants all over the floor for him to pick and chose from. However, she wasn't any other girl.

A brat. Something often referred to in the scene with derision. Someone who tops from the bottom, who doesn't listen, and who won't submit.

All of it true, mostly.

Had he taken the necessary precautions, lots of rope, and a systematic take over of her brain she'd willingly be sucking his cock right now, all mollified and quiet, the pain over her chest tingling along with the happiness in being on her knees.

But some men want to watch the world burn. And thusly, she danced for him.

"THWACK!"

Two steps to the side. "Fuck you Sir."

"thwack, wack, thwack"

A slight turn.

"Thwack!" He caught her side. "Oh you bastard, I hate you so much."

Another twist in the opposite direction.

"thwick, thwack, thwack" Three shots to her side, and it burned like hell. She laughed at him.

She put her hand in her hair and held his and danced as far as that grip would allow her. Which wasn't far enough.

"THWACK!"

Backside, curve of the ass, and this one hurt like a motherfucker.

"YOU! ASSHOLE!" She turned and glared at him. He merely smiled and hit her again as in affirmation of her name calling. She put out her hand to catch it.

Remember. Brat.
Remember. Definition of insanity.

The cane caught her fingers mid swing and just like a little girl who has pushed too far and burned her fingers in the process it effing hurt. No permanent damage of course, unless you count her pride.

Tears sprung to her eyes, and she cradled those fingers to her chest looking at him accusingly, before pausing ever so minutely, and sticking her tongue out at him.

She turned, and heard the swing of the cane, it caught her squarely across the ass. She jumped and shrieked and then laughed, she was pressed against the wall, once more.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes Sir."

Which again, wasn't totally the truth.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Despite only being in a corner of it, they filled the room, the sound of them finding every nook and cranny and emptying it of everything but the sounds of violence and struggle and cane on flesh. His expression changed with her every twist and turn, her every word and curse. The more defiant, the more angry, the more she lashed out, the more he smiled, the more pleasant his expression grew, and the more he seemed to be positively delighted with what she flung his way.

But he didn't grin. It was not feral, or menacing, or even humorous. It was simply a pleasant smile, as if he was seeing a puppy curled up asleep with a bunny, instead of marking the flesh of a naked and fighting girl.

At her last words, he drew the cane back as if to strike again, pausing with it up, letting her expect the sound and the searing... and then he lowered his arm, hooked the cane over the forearm extended so he could hold her against the wall.

Quick steps brought his body close against hers, she'd no doubt still feel him quite hard against the now quite different looking swell of her ass, and he tilted her chin down, pushing her forehead against the wall.

"Perhaps you do, girl, but this isn't one of those times."

His arm slithered around her body, between her thighs, fingers searching.

"And maybe you even wish it was."

His fingers were searching no longer, moving instead between her folds, feeling her heat, her arousal, slow and teasing strokes against her.

"But your pussy betrays you, girl. Doesn't it?"

The question was rhetorical, they both knew the answer, and as his fingers began to tease her clit he continued on.

"Tell me you don't want to be stretched around my cock right now."

Fingers moved a little quicker, his body pressing closer behind her.

"Tell me you don't want to cum while you're filled with every inch of me."

Again, his fingers moved a little quicker, the hand in her hair pulling back and down, tilting her head back, exposing her throat.

"Tell me you don't want to feel me erupt inside you."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

The pain was replaced by warmth. His warmth, and hardness. Between rock and a hard place, she was caught. For the moment at least.

His words were low and dangerous, right next to her ear, his hands free with the intentional assault on her body. He found the mark, and she knew that her wetness betrayed the fight. She loved the fight. So did he, and both of their bodies betrayed them.

"Tell me you don't want to be stretched around my cock right now."

Nothing could be said that didn't contain the word yes... and please.

"Tell me you don't want to cum while you're filled with every inch of me."

She bit back the whimper, and another plea. She was sure he wasn't done ensuring that she'd spill it all for him. A very different fight happening between them right now.

Who would give into their need first?

His fingers moved slightly faster and she swallowed hard, keeping the panting moans at bay, for now.

"Tell me you don't want to feel me erupt inside you."

Stretched, wet, beaten, tired and full of lust, she could barely resist. He controlled her almost thoroughly, and before the words of pleading for his pleasure erupted from her she would take one last liberty.

One last push. She would claim him as completely as he had her.

Her free arm snaked behind her and between them, finding it's way inside his pants, past the boxers, beneath the spot she had so unceremoniously left there. Finding their objective her fingers curled around his length, she squeezed lightly and slid her hand down his length.

She felt like she was dying, but she needed only to get the words out, to push them past her panting and needy lips.

"May I be fucked Sir? May I be filled with your cock? May I cum as you fuck me? Sir, I want to make you cum...please...?

 

[zydrate]

deleted

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

His eyes flicked down as her hand moved behind her, between them, and then back up to the side of her face, and he allowed her this liberty. For the moment.

"Mm."

Her fingers were cool around him, cool compared to him at least, and the low sound in his throat escaped without his realizing it was going to happen at her touch. They were quite a contrast. She was naked, though clothed now in the marks left by the cane hung over his arm. He was still almost as dressed as he was when he first entered her room, only his tie hung on her bed and his coat, folded carefully, sat on the table next to his leather bag.

Physically, they were both steeped in need, a desire to wreck her, mind and body, glowing white-hot inside him. He throbbed in her hand.

But he'd not forgotten.

She felt good around him, a very real part of him just wanted her to stroke his length, wanted her to pull him free of threaded confines so he could bury himself inside her to the hilt, but he resisted. No control of her, without control of himself.

And he'd not forgotten.

"You may, little girl."

He was a whisper in her ear, but the fingers that moved against her, that teased her clit and the rest of her right along with it, were demanding and unforgiving and unrelenting. He grinned, lips tightening against her ear.

"But first: On. Your. Toes."

His hips pressed forward. His body, her hand, her body, his hand, one pressed against the other and all against a wall that showed no signs of budging an inch.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

A moment of sweet victory. A moment where she had won this little battle, and had been aided by the need that made his cock throb in her hand. Though truthfully she was barely better off, unable to catch her breath, and moaning for him. For him!

A hard won battle. And then...

"But first: On. Your. Toes."

Together their bodies are pressed against the wall, that unforgiving bastard of a wall, both of them.

There is no point in resisting. She'll get on her toes.

Once.
Whoops.
Try again.
Darn it, she just cannot stay on her toes for anything longer than a second! Meanwhile, her hand just happens to be sliding up and down his length, pressed against her ass, just as she is moving up and down on her toes.

Strictly, she is doing exactly what he said.
He just never specified for how long she must be up on said toes.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

Pressed close as he was, her movements slid her body against the full height of his own, but the grip around his cock made it quickly apparent what she was doing. It felt good, she felt good, of that there was no doubt.

The tone of the battle had changed, but the fight still raged on between them. No longer was it a question of who would take a position of power, the pretty welts that decorated her body showed that quite clearly. Instead, it was who would exert their control within this new balance of power. Could she make his need overpower his desire to exert his control over her? Could he bend her to the breaking point, mollify her? The music still played. The dance was far from over.

A shudder moved up his spine, ending in a low, short laugh in her ear. He remained pressed close, body-hand-body-hand, and in the narrow space his fingers still worked, still teased her clit even as she teased him.

Dancing, dancing...

The hand holding her hair pulled back, pulling her forehead off the wall, arching her throat. His fingers left her, allowing him to press her that much more completely against the wall, and the two that had teased her mound now slid past her lips, over her tongue, pressing mercilessly toward her throat.

"Keep going, girl."

He pushed them, deep, quick, forcing his last knuckles to her lips, her mouth wet and warm around him, her wetness practically wiped along the surface of her tongue.

"Do you think your calves can outlast my resolve? I'll bet they're burning already. Legs probably a little sore already, those poor thighs..."

Knees bent, legs pressing forward as he said this, slightly rough material of his slacks against the red stripes on her thighs, using the little extra signal of pain sent through her body to emphasize his words.

"But don't let that stop you. You want to push... so let's find out how long you can push for."

And then, with her head still tipped back, her hand and the shape of her ass still moving along his length, he licked her cheek, nearly able to feel the fingers just on the other side of it.

"Impress me," he whispered.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

Impress him, impress him, certainly those words would slide through as a challenge, surely she would rise to the occasion, but no,they were already gone. She simply let her lust take over, her lust with the single minded goal of breaking his already thin and cracking veneer of self-control.

Surely her intent was nefarious.

It was only obvious, the way her tongue slid over his fingers and red lips slurped at them. The way she both complied with his order to keep moving, and ignored it, adding the embellishments of moving her hips over his groin. The way she moaned around his fingers.

It was all good, and while her thighs burned, her thirst and need for him burned hotter. But it wasn't good enough, and though she pantomimed the fucking she so craved, it was merely an invitation for him to lose himself in her, to abandon those last vestiges of control to her.

Her free hand slid along her heated and welted skin, finally dipping between her thighs, and though she desperately wanted to play there, to dip and dance her fingertips over her clit, she resisted, though her resistance bore a moan out of her, the vibrations of which he felt. No, she wanted something else, her wetness. An easy tell, she was the kind of a girl who could soak through the sheets. She only wanted her hand covered, a hand which quickly joined the other behind her. A hand that now slid easily up and down his cock, the two of them working in tandem, sliding, squeezing and twisting there.

And finally she stopped. Her hands and lips wrapped around him, her breath quick, and the pain from her ass and chest exquisite, as she pressed against the cold plaster.

For him, she finally stopped. On her toes.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

It was, in a way, a self-defeating prophecy. Her need for him only worked to assure that his resolve held, the steel of him tempered by the fire of her. This is not to say he was unaffected by her, what man with a pulse could be otherwise, but the stroking of her hand and the feel of her body were not enough.

And he had plans.

Still, there was a low grunt as another hand joined the first around him, this one slick with her own body's show of need. Her wet and the hardness of him, meeting.

His thumb was under her jaw, the length of his fingers along the length of her tongue, deep in her suckling mouth, and he gripped her mouth tighter in response to her stroking. She did well, he'd admit if only to himself, at putting that tempting voice in his head.

Bend her.

Fill her.

Fuck her.

Mark her, inside and out.

It was for this reason that he exhaled a breath he had not entirely realized he was holding when she stopped, raised up on her toes.

He waited a moment. Deep breath. Exhale. She didn't move. He did.

The fingers in her mouth quickly left, shining with saliva that was spread across full lips. Her head was pushed forward again, forehead to the wall in front of her. His hips left hers, his cock still free from his trousers but also, now, free from her grasp. As he moved, the cane was lifted from over his arm.

Hips swiveled, turning his body perpendicular to hers.

No tapping of increasing speed or pressure. No build up. No warning. No mercy.

The motion was fluid, using the momentum of lifting it off his arm to increase the force, and the cane sent fire into taut, flexed calf muscles. He wasted no time in going for another, and another, drawing back just enough to give wrist and arm the momentum necessary.

He didn't know how long she'd stay on her toes, how long she could, but he was going to use fully every second that she was.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

It took mere seconds for her to realize that she was in trouble. That he sought to make her completely and totally fold to him. That the denial of his own need to the dominance of her own.

Those seconds weren't long enough to steel herself for the onslaught against her calves. Against the burning that set in and made her grit her teeth and cry out. She wanted to collapse, to fall to her knees and beg him to stop.

She did the only thing she could think of that would keep her present enough to endure what he doled out to her.

"One, Sir." Her teeth were set against each other. She wanted to cry.

Another.

"Two Sir." She let the tears flow, she allowed the whimpers to trip over her lips.

Another.

"THREE! Sir." She screamed out her pain, out her wants.

Another.

"Four! Sir." It became a whimpered whisper as her sobs shook her fame and wracked her body fully.

Another.
Another.

She counted and cried for him, pressing the words past her trembling lips wondering when he'd decide that they'd had enough. She counted and didn't collapse, because he hadn't said she could.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The room became an oscillation between sounds.

Cane slicing through the air and finding flesh.

Her voice.

And repeat.

He'd not expected the counting from her, but it was a pleasant surprise and one he happily let continue. The struggle in her voice, the distress that was threaded through it, the red on her flesh that now appeared as if it started along the curve of her ass and had simply moved down her body, all these combined to make him throb with need.

Another might question why it was this, instead of her nakedness or her fingers wrapped around him that pushed his arousal to the heights it did. He was leading the dance now, the hand gripping her hair even seemed unnecessary at this point, and in his head there were no room for such questions.

As abruptly as it had begun, the meeting of cane and calves stopped, hips swiveling once more to bring his body close to hers. A light kiss of his lips found her neck, and then he whispered to her.

"Turn around. Back to the wall."

His hand did release her hair now, his touch leaving her entirely, and he crossed the room. His empty glass sat next to his folded jacket and brown leather bag he had yet to open, and he lifted it from the table as he passed, moving the final few steps to where the bottle of dark rum rested.

Bottle and glass clinked together, dark liquid moving from one to the other, and the glass was filled to just below halfway. The bottle returned, he moved back to stand near the table, where they'd first touched when he entered. His eyes found her, traveled her exposed and abused body, met her eyes, and he smiled.

He was still hard, almost painfully so, as he considered her. With the exception of the folded jacket, he was still fully dressed.

Sleeves rolled up, glass of dark amber in hand, he hooked the cane over his forearm again, and stretched his empty hand out to her. His index finger extended, pointing, and then curled slowly inward once, twice.

"Crawl to me, girl."

 

[Miss_Vivi]

The strikes stopped, and the desire burned back within her, flamed by his lips, fanned by his words, and she was sure that she would burn.

He was gone from her instantly, off to prepare some other devious treat, to wrestle some sort of submission from her, she wasn't sure she could take it. Shakily, she turned, keeping her eyes low, but still managing to take him in. Disheveled and handsome, his ragingly hard cock partially hanging out of his pants, a crooked knowing smile on his lips. Beautiful enticing lips that formed the words she knew were coming.

"Crawl to me, girl."

Oh, those beautiful lips and the hateful things that fell from them.

Without thought or fight she sank to her knees.
She hated herself in these moments.
Wanting to fight his words or this inclination to submit when she had been mostly mollified.

Hand, Vi stop, just get up and run to the bed,
hand, just hide under the covers.
Knee, he won't stop you.
Knee, at least right away he won't.

She crawled to him. Not a word passing between either of them. Every inch of her nakedness felt on the cold floor, her skin flaming red not just from the welts, but from her own shame at allowing this moment to happen. Hated him, and yet she still crawled. Her hips swaying with each movement, her breasts beneath her swinging slightly as she moved. She dared not look up, her red curls cascading around her face, hiding her there at least, even if the rest of her was bared to him.

The tip of his shoe finally came into view, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief, both at being near him again and for finally being done. Somewhere in the back of her mind previous training took over, and she knelt there, legs slightly spread, fingers splayed on her tingling thighs, head down. Her face still masked by curls. For which she was thankful.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The arm extended towards her dropped, a slow nod of his head as she sank to her knees. His body was tense, ready to react if she decided there was somewhere else she'd rather go. With the reddness standing out on the back of her legs, though, he didn't expect she'd be going far with much haste.

Either was expected from her - and wasn't that part of the fun? - and so he was pleasantly surprised when she moved forward onto her hands and began making her way to him. Her back moved, hips swaying as she crossed the distance between them, a movement with a distinctly feline feel to it, and he took a slow drink of rum.

He watched, silence still hung heavy between them, as she stopped just in front of him and sat back, still kneeling. An idea floated through her mind - you see my shoes. thank me for not still using the cane on you. - and a grin passed over rum-moistened lips as he imagined her reaction to it. Wondering if she'd fight it. Wondering if she'd curse him, but do it. Now was not the time, but someday... someday he'd find out.

Instead, he reached out, fingers that weren't curled around the glass found her hair, raked it back from her face, and then curled into a grip. He tilted her head back so she was looking up at him, a small smile curving his lips as he looked down into her face, the glass returned to his lips so he could take a small drink. The cool liquid was swirled around his tongue, silent eyes held on her as he did, the taste filling his mouth, thick and coating.

His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly.

The rum was swallowed.

His arm bent, pulled.

With her kneeling before him, still so hard, glistening faintly from what she'd spread over him with her fingers, he claimed her mouth.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

She stared at the floor. It felt like forever for when he finally reached out for her, his hands were gentle over her cheek, wiping away the tears there, his eyes caught hers and she saw the triumph and lust pooled there in the blue depths.

Those same cruel fingers curled into her red tresses and she eyed him and the hardness that suddenly was there.

He pulled.
She gasped.

There was no fight, no push past her lips, no teasing over her tongue. One minute her mouth was temporarily her own, the next it existed solely for his pleasure.

His pleasure.
Well, that wasn't totally true.

If she hadn't derived anything from it, it's doubtful that she would have bent to the task at hand with such verve. He didn't tell her she couldn't use her hands, so she did. Her left slipped lower to slide her nails lightly over sensitive skin. Her right circled the base of his cock and squeezed while her lips slid up and down the length. She'd pause for a minute to tease the head before sliding him in as far as she could without gagging. Sounds of her working filled her ears, little slurps, flesh moving together and apart. This was something she enjoyed. Something she loved.

If he had expected reticence, she had none. If he had expected to own her here, it would probably closer to the truth that she had him by the balls. Precisely, where her nails slid.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

There was, at first, no reaction from him when he took her mouth, save the clenching of his jaw and the tightening of muscles in thighs and abs and shoulders. His breath was held, momentarily, in his chest, eyes half-closed but focused entirely, intently on her.

And then he exhaled, and groaned, and released his grip on her hair.

The glass was held tightly in his hand, not enough to break it but the tips of his fingers were slightly white from the pressure and it was clear he would not be dropping it anytime soon. The dark rum inside it swayed, swirled with the moving of his body counter to her mouth moving on him.

When her nails found him, his eyelids fell entirely, brow creased as he moaned low in his throat. He throbbed insistently between her lips.

His need was a pulsing, caged beast of a thing, and the joining of his cock and her mouth was like a key in a lock, each bob of her head, each tease of his slowly turning the key.

"Fuck..." he said, low as he exhaled heavily again. The cane hung over his arm, the pretty welts it had left on her body, the dance, the struggle, the balance of power, all of it was forgotten for the moment, and he simply stood and let her show him the pleasure her mouth could give.

 

[Miss_Vivi]

His scent filled her brain, that scent of male, work, sweat, something deep and hard and him. She slurped and sucked on him, sliding her tongue over the ridges and veins that throbbed against her. She tasted that salty sweetness of his pre-cum on her tongue and smiled.

When his hand loosened in her hair, she dipped her head lower, filling her mouth with those two very sensitive sacks. There was no part of him that she didn't give attention to.

She particularly liked the soft moans and deep groans that fell around her, pushing her further, goading her to take more of him into her throat. Nails slid down the inside of his thighs, while her tongue teased the tip and her eyes slid up to meet his.

He was at an edge, she could feel it in the palm of her hand. More. She wanted more. She wanted him. All of him. And his self control, gone. Strewn across this room like his clothes shortly would be.

So she did what did best. She pushed.
Again.

Her hand stayed sliding up and down his length, but slowly, calmly, quietly, she unfolded her legs and stretched her body to stand against him. To curl herself around him. To slide her lips down his neck, to curl one leg around his, to wrap her arms around his shoulders, one hand playing with buttons down his shirt, undoing them slowly.
And still that one hand, sliding up and down his cock.
He never put down the glass of rum, however.

 

[Scuttle Buttin']

The tilt of his head allowed him to open his eyes at any moment and see her there on her knees, lips stretched around him, curls swaying with the movement of her head, but his eyes remained closed. She felt good, damn good, and it had seemed like hours since he first rapped on her door and begun the slow dance toward this.

Jaw set, his lips parted and sucked in a slow, full breath as her mouth sought out and found his heavy and blissfully sensitive balls, and his chin lifted, head tipping back, breath released in a low moan.

His eyes did open again, looking someone unfocused at her ceiling before his head dropped forward, meeting her gaze as her tongue teased him. His breath was a bit heavy, his heart thudding in his chest.

One corner of his lips pulled into a slight grin, his brow rising with it as if the two were attached by an invisible string, when she moved to her feet. Silent eyes followed her until he lost sight of her face, her lips soft against his neck, leg warm as it curled around him. A low current of electricity seemed to slip effortlessly through her body, centered unquestionably at the hand that still encircled him, stroked him, worked to heighten his arousal.

And, of course, his loss of control.

The glass was lifted slowly to his lips, tipped, sipped from, cooler air finding his chest as her fingers opened the buttons of his shirt. He let her go for a moment, rum moving across his tongue, exciting taste buds as worked. And then the low sound of rum swallowed down.

One arm moved around her body, empty hand pressed into the small of her back, holding her body close. Much as he had earlier (hours? days?), his body moved and carried hers with it, one leg slipping out and past the one she had still on the ground for support. He bent forward, his hand slid up her back, and he stole her balance, supporting her weight so she didn't fall flat to the floor.

His grin has fallen away, but the curious arch in his brow was still there as he looked down into her face, alcohol on his breath.

"And things were going so well, too..."

A small, almost mournful shake of the head, as if dealing with a child that was going to touch the hot stove despite being warned not to, and then his arm relaxed, and he released her to the whim of gravity.