Deceptive Pleasures
By Rina Garet
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Part Four
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He's seen me.
He knows me.
Does he know what I'll do next? Can he guess?
He lies on the floor, green eyes glazing as he looks up at me, and I look back at him. I have my katana in hand, my free hand caressing the blade.
He tries to sit up. Of course, he must not be used to being confronted with someone so aggressive. I'm not one of his girls. A half smirk splays across my lips and I focus my gaze on him. He wants this. He wants to take me. I want to let him. But I'll make him squirm, first. For making me be the one to confront him, for him thinking he'd kept it from me all this time. For making me wait so long.
Before he can sit up and right himself, I'm on the floor beside him. The tip of the katana slips its way under his shirt, sliding across a vast expanse of bare, flat belly before catching beneath thin fabric. He flinches at the coldness of the metal, which quickly warms at the contact with his skin.
I slide the blade up, forcing him to lie flat, to tip his head back, or have his neck bitten with cold steel. The tip presses the underside of his chin. My hands are on the hilt. With a quick flick of my wrist, the blade is naked and free again, cut fabric neatly falling around his shoulders. Leaning down, I softly kiss away the droplet of blood at the soft underside of his chin, from where katana point met tender flesh. He tenses at the kiss, and my blade is still lying flat across his body.
I run my fingers down along the blade, along the flesh around the blade. He sighs, expressively. Beautiful creature, beautiful object. One hot, one cold. One sighing beneath my fingertips, one permeating my senses with lust. The lines between them disintegrate. They merge in the throes of my touch, and become something else.
One and the same.
I slide the blade down, the metal scraping softly against him as I lift it away.
He sits up fast, and the katana skitters across the ground, but so softly that I'm not sure that either of us really pays attention. The blessings of carpeting.
He springs up from the ground, grabbing my head in both of his hands, fingers tangling in my hair tightly, crushing my mouth in a violent, vicious kiss. My fingers shake and tear my own shirt from my upper body, hating the feel of cloth right now. He bruises my lips, I moan at the sweet pain, and his fingers slide down my back, slipping into the waistband of my pants, which are too tight to allow him easy access. Frustrated fingers dig into my hips, unable to slide in farther.
He's not the only one that wears tight pants around here. I planned for this more than he could have ever expected.
He breaks the kiss, and my raw lips get a break as he works frantic fingers at the button and zipper of my tight jeans. I'm statue cold as he nudges the zipper halfway down. He presses me down, trying to get me on my back instead of my knees, so he can work the zipper the rest of the way down. I fight him a little, my fingers tracing patterns on the tattoo on his left shoulder.
"Impatient Kudou..." I whisper softly, more to myself than him.
"Tease!"
I still don't let him press me fully to the floor,
smiling underneath my statuesque mask.
Reaching deftly into the pocket of my half-unzipped pants, I slip a tube out. He plucks it from my fingers and turns it over curiously. He's seen these things enough to know exactly what it is, but examines it anyway.
A bit of the tension ebbs as he reads the print on the tube, and grins idiotically.
"Since when do you keep stuff like this?" He twirls it over and his lips twist in a small grin. "Especially..." he looks closer. "Strawberry?"
I give a soft laugh and he looks surprised. He's not used to seeing or hearing me laugh. Neither am I, truth be told. I lean in close and whisper softly in his ear, as smile that he can't see this way breaks through my mask and forms on my lips. "Since I knew you were watching me..." His surprise fades as I nip his ear.
"But... ahh...." He sighs at the kisses, unscrewing the cap on the tube, holding it up underneath his nose. "Strawberry?"
I shrug. "Why not?"
I give him a LOOK. He gives me one right back.
"Shut up, Yohji."
That's all he needed. Before I can even blink, or breathe, the clothes are gone, torn off by eager fingers that take no heed of buttons or zippers.
I couldn't have ever prepared for it. A flurry of adrenaline splashing through my veins, a rush of heat, the unexplainable finally explained, of things I'd never imagined, never felt.
All of it became real when we were finally skin against skin.
Warmth. Sheer, unending warmth. Radiating from him, radiating from me, mingling between us as flesh brushed against flesh, desire brushed against desire, lusts collided like crashing waves.
It was never like this before. A moment of cold passion, one-sided lust, and it was over. I'd never expecting this to be anything more than that.
But...
I can't even think any more, I'm too full, too overloaded on new sensations that I don't know how to deal with, don't know how to categorize, don't know how to react to. His lips and his fingers burning at my neck, searing my chest, blazing over my stomach. I want him to stop, I want him to continue, I want to scream out in whatever emotion it is that's pounding in my head, crying to get out.
My eyes snap wide and then squeeze shut as his fingers close over the very thing they were so eager to find a few moments before, now with no clothes barring the way. He's torturously gentle, sadistically tender, but only for a moment. The intensity races, as does the pace of his stroking fingers, along with my gasping sighs. I clutch him tightly, fingers leaving marks on his back as I hold on, fingers painfully tightening in his hair.
I want this, I need this. I want more, I need more. It's not enough. I need him completely.
Even this now, it's incomplete. There's something missing and I need it badly filled. I'm so empty, aching for the chance to be whole for once. The heat has burned everything away and I need him to give it back. It's not the pleasure, I've felt pleasure before in my own bizarre fashion. But that never filled the void. I need to have him complete me.
Tears prick at my eyes as my body tightens up against him, hoarse breath catching in my throat. We're still sitting up, and he takes the tube that I gave him in his fingers, fingers that tremble as they try to twist off the cap.
I take it from him, my hands holding surprisingly steady, and open the tube. The gel is cool against my fingers, and I rub it between my hands to warm it before I reach for him.
I haven't touched him yet...
But I won't wait any more.
When I touch him, it's not tentative. I can't hold back, I can't second guess. I've gone too far and wanted this too much and waited far too long already. Slick fingers slide effortlessly along him, and it's so different from anything I've ever had before. Not cold, but warm. Solid, and soft at the same time, not unyielding. Pulsing with life beneath my fingertips, not a cold weapon of death. I close my eyes and lay my head on his shoulder as we share panting breaths, unable to hold myself up anymore, focusing all my effort into caressing him.
He places furious, hot kisses at the juncture of my neck and shoulder as I continue, fingers ghosting across my back in light touches. I stop when I feel his teeth sink into my shoulder, sitting back a little to look at him, warm, oiled fingers sliding up to his face to brush his cheek.
He kisses me, more gently this time, and I let him push me down. No more resisting, no more teasing, no more waiting.
From where my hand still lingers on his face, he turns his head, taking strawberry-flavored fingers into his mouth, sucking lightly, and then sharing with me a deep, strawberried kiss as his fingers reach for the tube again.
His mouth ravages mine as gelled fingers slide down my body. His fingers pause on their downward descent to pinch at sensitized nipples, pause to slide along hardened arousal, and I arch up against him, muscles tightening and twitching uncontrollably.
A slickly gelled finger pushes in uncomfortably, and then brushes up against something I never even knew existed, piercing a line of pleasure through me that chokes my breath and empties my brain of all other thoughts, so sharp it hurts.
It hurts so bad, hurts so good, I don't know which and I don't care. My eyes are wide, but I can't see anything, and I'm torn between begging him to stop and begging him to go. Before I can even think about which to choose, a second finger follows the first, and a gasping tremor rolls over me, unbidden and uncontrollable.
It was never like this, I never could have imagined, never could have asked for this, never could have even known that I wanted this until I had it. And after one taste I wanted it all.
As a third finger slipped past the line between pleasure and ecstasy, I gasped out loud, and felt a tear spill down one cheek. Just as sudden as the flashes of pleasure had come, the fingers were gone, and I felt empty again. Another tear. I wanted it back. I wanted it back terribly.
I felt soft lips on my cheek, and my eyes focused again. He whispered one soft word against my face.
"Aya."
Then he was gone away from me again.
My vision was nothing but sunbursts and sharp white as I felt him again. I was split in two, beyond speech, beyond sight, beyond anything else except him. Cut with a million knives, covered in a million kisses, consumed in a million flames.
And I was finally complete.