yosafbridge

Entry tags:

oom,
ramon salazar

OOM.

Her room hasn't changed much in the first few months since she's been Bound. Bare walls that were once completely devoid of decor are now covered in lush tapestry, as well as souvenirs that she's successfully pulled off some unsuspecting marks. She's not about to brag about them to anyone who happens to stop by, but back in her world, each and every one is worth a pretty penny.

The bed itself is still an upgrade; bigger, too, after she put in a request to make it large enough for two and any activities implied by the addition of more space.

She barely squeezes through the door, tossing her room key down on a smaller table, and turns to him, holding an arm out in a sweeping introductory gesture.

"This is it."

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His eyes close though he doesn't stop moving. Her licking is strangely erotic, wet tongue against warm fingers, the touch turning cold as the air cools it. He moans and releases her hip, sliding round to finger her clit in time with his thrusts.

'Christ, you're wet.'

She chuckles then, a small laugh that piggybacks another moan as she flicks her hair out of her face.

"All your doing," she points out, though she savors the way it slickens his movements, sucking in a breath when his hand finds her clit and gently biting one of his fingers in response.

He knows it and that's wny he enjoys it so much. That, and because it feels amazing.

So he laughs and gives it faster, feeling every wet thrust send tendrils of hot pleasure through his centre, coiling at the base of his balls. And he stops the idle fingering; he pushes his thumb and forefinger together, holds them still so that every time she moves back her hard clit will slide between the groove he's made for it. He wants to push her along, wants to see if he can make her come on him before he lets go.

It's not going to take long, that's for sure. Not long at all, based on the way her body tightens around him, the way she grips handfuls of the bedsheets and her toes curl against the edge of the mattress. She's a wire slowly tightening, coiling, ready to spring loose. It's just a matter of when.

And when comes fast, faster than she anticipates, and the second he quickens his pace it only takes one, two, three thrusts and she's coming, and coming hard, with a shout that would be almost too loud if his ear was resting right by her mouth. She tenses around him, her inner muscles clenching around his cock, tensing and releasing a flood, and she nearly sobs with relief.

...mmmmmmmnjesuschrist...he slams his eyes shut against the feeling of her climax, wanting to hold out a little longer but almost losing it at the way she clamps around him. He doesn't stop moving, his body hard and screwed up against the pressure of impending release. But not like this, he doesn't want to come like this tonight - when he feels her relax he pulls out, movements quick with need and desire. She's pulled over on to her back and he kneels between her legs, hooking one up over his thigh and around his waist. Then he pushes back into her, holds her leg around him, kisses her hard and brief before pulling back so he can look her in the eye as he starts fucking her again, fast and deep.

He's barely giving her enough time to breathe, let alone recover from her second orgasm when she's flipped over onto her back and he's in her again. She's still sensitive, and every thrust feels like pins and needles running through her body.

She arches her hips up, wraps both her legs around his waist - a sign of good flexibility, if not to improve the angle - and moans when he hits that one place inside her that sends shockwaves outward in a rippling effect.

"Mmmmyes," she groans.

He nods fast, eyes locked on hers.

'Yeah. Yeah. Can you do it again?'

He'll hold off if she can. Well. He'll try. He's breathless and every muscle is tensed to the point of failure but he'll keep on rocking into her until he jst can't take it anymore.

'Come for me again, come on, you can do it...'

"Yeah. Yeah," she echoes, though hers are slightly weaker in nature.

The third doesn't take long to arrive; it's not as strong as the others, but no less intense, and the cry she makes is a good indication of his success in bringing her to that point.

It may not take long but it's torture for him. Torture of the best kind, obviously as as soon as she's clenching round him again he stops trying to hold himself back. It waits just long enough to enjoy her cry and the look on her face, then it only takes a few hard thrusts before he's straining all over, cutting off a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he comes.

Her fingertips dig into his back, creating tiny points of contact when her nails meet his skin, murmuring softly in his ear as he reaches his own peak.

She relaxes her touch as their bodies relax, tracing the curve of his spine from top to bottom with feather-light brushes.

He stays where he is for a moment or two, liking her hands on him and also just trying to get his breath back. When the initial rush is over he pulls back and rolls over on to his back, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before turning his head to look at her and grinning.

He would ask if it was good for her...no, wait. He wouldn't. He already knows it was.

'Mind if I smoke?'

After a moment, she rolls onto her side, using her hand to pillow her head up slightly as she fixes on him with a lazy grin.

"Wouldn't bother me," she says, reaching over with her other hand to idly trace the curves of his chest.

'Want one?'

He gets up to find his jeans, procurs smokes and Zippo and slumps back down. His muscles are all feeling pleasantly loose and warm right now.

She's a smoker when the occasion calls, and as he gets up to find them, she pulls up one edge of the bedsheets to slip underneath, letting the thin fabric hug her body when she rolls back towards him.

"Sure," she agrees, plucking one from his hand and holding it out for him to light, leaning forward to let her mouth wrap around the other end.

He's bemused by the sudden display of bashfulness, as he interprets it, and lights her smoke with a smile on his face.

'Your hangover going to be bad tomorrow? You put away quite a lot of tequila there.'

We didn't say she was completely covered, at any rate - there are hints here and there peeking out.

"Nothin' a few glasses of water won't fix," she answers, laying back, her red hair fanning out around her head as she lifts the cigarette to her lips and inhales.

"Hydration's the key," she adds, with a soft giggle.

'So I'm told.'

He never bothers, mainly because he prefers coffee and a hair of the dog first thing in the morning. He stands now and pulls his jeans on, finds the tequila bottle and takes a mouthful, looking at her lying there.

'This is the bit where I make sure I'm gone before morning. You see where my shirt went?'

Brow furrowing, she holds up one finger, placing the cigarette between her lips as she moves to the other side of the bed.

There's a brief period of rummaging before she comes up with it, tossing it to him.

"Can't say as I blame you for leaving," she adds, "but I will say: y'don't have to be a stranger."

'Want more, do you?'

He laughs and disappears into the bathroom to drop the butt of his smoke in the toilet because it would be very bad form to stub it out on the carpet. When he comes back he's pulling his shirt on and he sits on the bed next to her, leaning down to kiss her.

'Next time it can be your turn to leave my bed cold, alright?'

Her other hand tangles in his shirt again, keeping him near to respond with a gentle nipping kiss.

"Deal."

Then he's released, and she settles back against the pillows to watch him leave, taking another drag on the cigarette.

He gives no thought to leaving because she'd said back in the bar that that's what she wanted. More than that, it's what he wants right now. So he heads off merrily, just pausing at the door to look back and wink at her before making for his room where a shower and sleep awaits.

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OOM.

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