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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"Loved it," she whispers against his mouth, her tongue snaking out to flick against his upper lip, tasting the combination of tequila and her own essence lingering.

Her hand slides between his legs to join him, her fingers worming inside his hand to replace its position, stroking his growing erection.

"Think I might love something else even more."

He chuckles and lets her take over, stay close to plant small kisses down her jaw and throat.

'I get that you liked it. I meant, how'd you like to take it.'

Because, y'know. She gets her choice of position. He likes it any which way and he'll make sure he puts her where he wants her in the end anyway.

She stretches beneath him - lazily, like a cat arching its back just before its claws come out.

"Maneuver me where you will," she says, practically purring.

Ramon grins and straightens up.

'Turn over.'

Her movements are slow as she rolls, first onto her stomach and then up, arching again, on all fours.

She inches then, this time back toward him and tosses red strands out of her eyes with a flick of her head as she looks down one shoulder at him.

He sure as hell appreciates the view, tilting his head and practically sighing out a breath in anticipation. He places a hand between her shoulderblades and runs it down that arched back, over her ass and lets it rest there for a second.

'No need to ask if you're ready for it, I guess.'

Hell no. He gets up quickly to kick his jeans off and then slips back behind her, grabbing her hips to pull her the rest of the way to him. He wastes no time in running his cock down the cleft of her ass - his one attempt at showing patience - before taking himself in hand and guiding into her. An inch at first, then he lets go, grabs her hips again and simply thrusts the rest of the way in.

"Ready and waiting," she admits, goosebumps forming on her skin in the wake of his hand as it trails down her body, lower and lower, her own anticipation heightening with every passing second.

The first breach elicits a sigh of delight, followed by a moan that spills out of her the moment he thrusts all the way in, filling her completely in one single thrust. She pauses to luxuriate in it, her head lolling forward as she bites down hard on her lip to muffle another series of sounds.

He pauses there for a moment, adjusting his balance on the bed because he doesn't want this interrupted by being uneven or slipping out. That sorted, and a deep, controlling breath later and he's setting a fast rhythm, firm but not too hard just yet, revelling in the tight heat around his cock.

'You feel good. Really fucking good.'

Her breath hitches in her throat when he starts his rhythm, just enough to get things off to a very enjoyable start. She tilts her head back, looking over at him again, and grins wickedly until another moan dissipates that expression.

"So d'you," she murmurs. "Don't stop."

'Not a chance.'

Not even if she wants him to, probably. Not when she's looking at him over her shoulder with those fuck-me eyes and those moans that tell him he's doing it right.

He grips her tighter and pulls her back on to him as he thrusts, not letting her be passive because fuck it, they only met an hour or two ago and while he wants her to enjoy it, he also isn't going to treat her with kid gloves either. Besides, she seems like the sort of woman who can take it.

She knows rough. Hell, she knows all kinds of rough, even the kind of rough that sometimes borders on a little too rough -

- (from the kind that leaves her sore in the morning to the kind where she's covering up her bruises) -

- but she's not thinking about that now, not when he fills her up so completely every time his hips press flush against her backside. It's enough to make her make all kinds of sounds, and she does, from low moans to high keening gasps as her breath practically gets fucked out of her.

He does those kinds of rough and worse. And less and everything in between. But right now, it shouldn't be too bad. Just fast and hard, stacatto movements that have him losing his breath as he pistons into her carelessly, loving the noises he's pulling from her as he works.

Holding her hips isn't enough after a while; one hand closes over her shoulder to give him the full length of her back to push against, groaning deeply at the pressure the extra leverage gives.

Some of the marks, she's had to stick around a little longer to pull off the job, even if she got roughed up in the process. She doesn't like to talk much about those.

Slowly, she turns her head to nuzzle her cheek against his hand, and then turns more, tongue darting out over his fingertips and tasting the lingering musk of herself still on them.

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.

OOM.

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