before we settled down and started writing, they asked if i wanted a five-minute sex break, but i knew that five minutes would turn into half an hour, and we’d never write at all. plus, i wanted more stamina later, and i wanted to be selfish, and i asked for a two-minute clit-rubbing break instead.
i set a timer at their request, but they wanted to see it. they know i’m greedy about sex, i guess they thought i wouldn’t set the timer so i’d just keep rubbing and rubbing. they slipped their hand down my panties and started wiggling a couple fingers, teasing at my opening and above, but not my clit. i wiggled and twisted, trying to get them to move their fingers up, but in the end i had to remind them what i’d said—“clit-rubbing break.” and they obliged, twisting one fingertip—or was it two?—over my clit. i’m sure i moaned and whimpered like a perfect whore, but i can’t remember any of the sounds i made.
i didn’t expect it to become a capital-s scene, but i guess i should have. it was already verging on too hard: fingernails grazing my clit with every other rub, the pressure spiking through my pelvis in a way that made both mouth and cunt drool. but i knew i couldn’t cum like that, not yet. and i didn’t want to cum so quickly anyhow. i wanted it later, after long build-up and a dominant hand leading me to it.
i didn’t make it. the alarm went off, the ringtone zinging through the air. was that the same ringtone i use for medication reminders? i’m not sure, but i hated that sound, because it meant that the delicious rubbing would stop. after their hand left my skin, i replaced it with my own, rubbing frantically with the sweet friction of my lacy panties as the alarm kept trilling. as soon as they told me to take the panties off, i didn’t think twice.
i got a reprieve. the timer was restarted, their thong came off, and suddenly my legs were spread and they were rubbing against me, telling me i had another chance. it took a few slips, a false start, but they cored me open, tip rubbing against my aching, overworked skin. i moaned, grasped at them. their forearm pressed against my forehead, just barely hurting, and i hoped that it was on purpose to keep me there, to keep me pinned. I didn’t even think about cumming until they told me to.
they shifted their arms, one hand pinning mine to the bed. i hoped desperately that they would complete the pin; i tested it gently to encourage it, but i must say i did like being able to grab at their hair, clutch at their nape in rapture. their free hand crept down, the pad of their palm pressed into my mound as a deft thumb roughly scrubbed back and forth over my clit. i wailed, torn between screaming at the overstimulation and begging them to thrust harder. my eyes rolled up as they slammed into me, targeting my g-spot with practiced ease. it’s still hard to believe that someone knows my body so well.
i knew i had two minutes, but a growing part of me wanted to find out what would happen if i didn’t make the deadline. i want so badly to feel the full force of what they can to do me, how many tremors and shrieks they can wring from my aching body. but i don't want to ask for it. i want to earn it.
despite what i wanted, they were getting me close. i couldn’t decide what i wanted—did i want the tidal wave of orgasmic pleasure, or did i want to see how they would draw it out, how they would torture me?
the timer pealed. i barely heard it over my own panting and the sounds of the bedsheets rustling. “you have a few extra seconds,” they murmured, bending over me to pound into me, sending the sounds of my wetness through the room. “ten… nine…”
something crested. not an orgasm, but the knowledge that i was giving up a full-body divine pleasure for the chance to see how they would deny me. how depraved. how devoted. i didn’t even hear the rest of the countdown.
i shuddered as they pulled free, my body trying to keep us joined together. i knew that i’d be at their whim. they controlled my pleasure, they controlled my body. for the moment, i belonged to them.
i squeezed my eyes shut, panting. they tossed my phone onto my chest, the rounded edge resting against my throat. i wondered if the position was intended to limit my air ever-so-slightly. i wondered if they’d choke me.
2087
stormborns
yousharknotpass
