tiny fighter

With your nose buried in the book, then your notebook, back and forth in the monotonous cycle of taking notes, you don't catch the way Coryo cannot take his eyes off your lips. He's thought about kissing you before. Those days when you laugh so hard at something he's said and your hand end up on his arm, leaning in closer to stabilize yourself from the laughter, part of him wishes he could grab your waist and kiss you.

It's different, as he watches your teeth bite and pull. Coryo wants to do that, he tells himself while watching you. He wants to be the one biting at your lips, maybe not tugging at the skin the way you do, but enough that maybe it would satiate this little habit of yours and maybe he'd hear a pretty noise let out from your mouth.

Coryo feels a stir in his pants. He spares a glance down, but he does not need to tell he was getting aroused. He tries to focus on his work, but the words on the page mush together. He rereads the same sentence four times before he looks back at you, still focused as ever.

When you bite at your lips still, it irritates a spot, and the slight redness of blood starts to gather there. So, your teeth retreat to biting the inside of your mouth, the little spot of red on your lips remaining.

Coryo isn't sure why the sight of your blood on your lips makes his dick twitch. He presses his palm against himself for some relief, to adjust himself more comfortably but it's to no avail.

He catches the moment your tongue darts out to lick over the spot of blood and he wishes so deeply he was alone in his room so he could let out a groan. His eyes find the book in front of him again, his palm pressing more against himself as he moves it slowly. Circling his palm over his clothed dick, his jaw tightens to control the noises that he wants to emit, but he won't.

Coryo is already cursing at himself. This is risky. This is awful and horrible. You're his friend. And he's rubbing his cock through his pants over your lips. There's gotta be something wrong with him, he wonders, but despite any bad thoughts he has over himself, Coryo cannot stop touching. He tries to act like he's writing something, but it's nonsense. He's writing his own name over and over on the page. Some in cursive, some in print, some completely intelligible as he tries to find the right friction with his palm.

When he looks at you, you're still looking at your work. Damn you, he thinks. Hell, Coriolanus wants you to look at him. Want you to see him and wonder why his cheeks have flushed, why his eyes are wider, and why his hand is gripping his pen so tight. He wants to palm his dick while your eyes look at his, not knowing what sinful thing he's doing.

Coryo is staring at you like he's waiting for the biting to return to your lips and it does as if you were mentally connected to his thoughts. He watches as you suck in your bottom lip, biting at it more and licking over the sensitive spot of skin that bled before.

He can't take it. Palming himself isn't enough. So he unbuttons his pants and slides his hand down beneath his boxers as well. Loosely holding his cock as he rubs it, letting his thumb brush the tip and press against it, circling it to tease himself.

Teasing himself doesn't last long when you wince all of a sudden and he sees you've made your lip bleed again. Your finger touches your lip, and then you lick the blood from your bottom lip. Coryo is anticipating your next move. He knows what it's gonna be and it has him trying to move his hand on himself faster, but he knows he needs to be discreet. It's killing him.

You lick the blood from your fingertip, your eyes flitting up to Coryo across the table. He stilled his movements but kept his thumb rubbing his tip, the only thing he could do that wouldn't make it obvious to you what he was doing.

Chuckling, you sigh, "Should have warned me I was biting my lip, Coryo." He lets out a laugh, but it fades quick as he feels his orgasm threatening to spill over the edge and he prays you look away from him, completely abandoning how badly he wanted your gaze earlier. It's cowardice and the weakness that spreads through him is uncanny. He isn't sure if he can keep a straight face.

"I'll l-let you know next time," he says, the only words he could mutter out and you give him a nod, smiling your cute grin before turning back to your notes.

As soon as your head dips down and he's not in your direct view, Coryo lets his eyes flutter shut, his cum spurting out of him on his hand, messing his underwear. His thighs clench and he bites down on the inside of his cheek to not let out a noise. He wants to pat himself on the back for how well he's kept quiet. Wiping his hands on his underwear, he feels a calmness take over him, enough to actually focus on his work.

Coryo could even taste the metallic of his own blood from how hard he bit down and he finds himself wishing it was your blood he was tasting. For now, this will do.

He seems hesitant, you determine. Was it the blood? You can't help but wonder why you don't care. Wouldn't it be more reasonable to clean him up and then kiss him and tell him everything is okay? Yes, but right now, you're seeing red. His eyes flutter closed and you're forced to stop trying to read them. The pad of his thumb taps against your jawline and the shockwaves it sends through you make you wanna laugh. A simple touch from Billy felt like the touch of a thousand suns, scorching each part of your skin no matter where he started the touch.

Your mouth parts in a breath and you see the quirk of his lips into a smile before you give in, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. It's gentle at first, but Billy's hand moves to hold your face and you can't help but press closer to him, wanting to feel the heat from his chest, from his hips against you. He welcomes it, holding your face in both of his hands as his lips caress yours. The taste of his blood mixes into your mouth when his tongue licks along your lip and you moan right into the kiss.

He must like that, you think, because you feel him stand to his full height. He had been leaning against the table, lax besides his hands, but now you feel no fidgeting or shake in his fingers as he holds your face.

He must like it even more, you tell yourself when he turns you so you're pushed against the ledge of the table, his hands grabbing at your waist, the fabric at your hips bunching up in his hands. You pull away from his lips to take a breath, your mouth parted and hungry for more of him, and his eyes widen slightly when he looks over your face.

"What?" Your voice is just above a whisper and he shakes his head at you, his eyes threatening to flutter shut again and that's when you see the dazed look, the way his eyes rake your figure and Billy nudges his nose to yours despite the pain it causes him. "Got some...got some uh...," he trails off and cups your face in his hand again, his thumb swiping at your bottom lip and wiping the blood of his that stained you.

"Oh," you whisper, and you feel it on your cheeks too from when he had been holding you, his hand wiping at it as it spreads and stains your skin, and Billy presses his body flush against yours, his bulge resting right to your thigh and it takes everything in you to not just drop to your knees.

"Am I pretty still?" You say instead, pouting your lip a little because you know he likes it.

Billy chuckles, giving your pout a little kiss, leaning his forehand to yours and his lips brush yours again, threatening to connect them but he's holding himself back. "Pretty as always, sweetheart," he mumbles, his jaw clenching as he sees the way you smile at him.

Billy wants to ravish you in this moment, rip your dress off and bend you over the table and take you, even with the ache in his muscles. But he likes this. He likes the lingering silence you let settle. The way your touch is so gentle to him, but seductive in its purpose. Your hands rest on his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, never undoing it. Not yet. Not right now. It's breaking his resolve, his patience is thinning but you continue to stay quiet, studying his face like he really is a book.

Billy is close to whining. "Sweetheart," he says, his voice low, almost breaking as he lets his nose bump yours again.

"Yes?" You whisper to him, kissing the tip of his nose so gently, you're like a ghost. You lick over your lips to taste the blood, cursing at yourself inside your head for how much you like this.

"I need to clean myself up," he mumbles and you let yourself smile. He's fighting with himself. He knows you're gonna kiss him. He knows he's gonna kiss you. He knows he should clean up and sleep after the day he's had. But you're standing here with this smug, cute, perfect smile, tasting his blood and he knows that the mere sight of it probably got you soaked and he's almost dying to see it.

"Then, go clean up." He grumbles at that, rolling his eyes and Billy presses his clothed, hard cock more against you, using his hands to tilt your head up a little more. Your breath almost leaves your body when his hand trails to your throat, holding it in his grasp.

"Sweetheart," he pleads, and he hopes you understand his tone. You do, and you hold back your own eye roll, instinctively licking your lips despite having licked off the remainder of his blood from them.

"Think I need more," you whisper and Billy's hand tightens slightly around your throat and he can't hold himself back anymore. His hips almost buck against you the moment his lips clash back to yours.

His muscles strain and his nose throbs, his chest hurts, but your kisses are his antidote. They make the pain worth every single second cause a rush to shoot through his body straight to his cock. He's aching in his trousers, the need to bury himself into her too strong, he feels out of control.

You're tempted to slap him with how hard he kisses you, worried about your own nose getting injured from how aggressive he was, but the stir in your tummy said enough to you to know how much you needed this too. You taste his blood on your lips again and your moans cannot be controlled. Not when he bites your lip to get a taste of you.

Billy moves on his reflexes after that, turning you and pushes your back down so you're bent over the table, hiking your dress up. He's too desperate to take it off of you. It almost brings a smile to your face the way he takes control. You wanted this so bad. His hands felt almost unbelievable in the way he moved you and you long for it always. His belt clanks to the ground as he pulls it off, his hands shaking again as he frantically fishes his cock out of his undone trousers, not even bothering to push them down.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your folds, and his suspicions were correct. You were drenched, all ready for him and he kind of wished he could have spit onto your cunt when he still had blood to spit out. Another time maybe. He's relishing in the little soft whines you let you and your hand finds his, holding tightly.

"I got you, honey, I'll take care of you," he says, his voice huskier, almost strained as he teases his dick against your hole, pushing in, giving himself and you a moment to actually breathe before he slides his cock into you.

Billy groans and you squeeze his hand, your other holding onto the table. You try to breathe calmly, but that was always hard around Billy. Your breath catches and restarts often in his presence and this is like any other time. His senses overwhelm the moment he starts to thrust into you, his legs are so weak and he wants to pull you to the floor, but he's mesmerized already without even fully looking at your face.

You feel all of him, he makes sure of it. As deep as he can, he fucks his cock into you, his gaze watching it, but he feels the pull to look at what he can see of your face. Mouth parted, eyes dazed and fluttering shut when he thrusts deeper into you, "like that?" And you nod, his hand slapping to your ass in a hesitant manner, but the way you whine for him lets him know you liked it.

"Words, honey, please," he says, his voice dripping in desperation as he pounds into you faster.

"Mmm mhm, r-right there," you're able to get out, and he pumps his cock into you the way he thinks you like it. He's right. Billy makes sure to thrust his cock hard, deep into you each time, and he knows he can't hold back much longer, but he wishes he could. He wishes he could keep hearing your pretty little moans for an eternity. You know this won't last long either, so you write it into your memory the exact way his cock feels inside of you. And the way his noises are so desperate, he's almost whining. Almost. That was all for you. The thought of that is already sending your mind into a spiral that you know you'll never come out of. This want you have for him will linger no matter how far or close he is, knowing his want is the same is rattling your senses.

His breath gets shakier if that's even possible. You squeeze his hand tight, only holding a few of his fingers more than his actual hand. You feel him everywhere now. No simple touches left, just frenzied aggression that heightens the heat pooling within you.

He lets out a louder groan, one so akin to the groans he let out earlier in the day in his fight, but this is so much better. He feels like passing out, his one hand looping underneath you to tug your hips back into him. Billy almost lifts your feet off the ground, grinding his cock into you and that does it for you. He presses the right spot and you're whining into the table, contracting around his cock and releasing, your nails digging into his hand.

Billy can barely comprehend the strength of your release as his follows, keeping his cock pressed into you, grinding it, rutting it until you've taken all he has and emptied himself into you. You're milking every last drop of his come and he doesn't dare to pull out until he's sure he's done, until he's sure you've felt every shock of your own orgasm.

When he pulls out, his body is close to collapsing and he quickly reaches to tug you close and bring you to the ground. He sits, you landing in his lap and he says nothing, pushing his head into your neck and hugging you so tightly, you don't know where he got the strength to do so. You're panting still, and you feel his come already leaking out of you as you lean your head back on his shoulder. It's hard to remember how this started, and you know he's too fucked out to do anything else, but you feel the small fire inside of you pulse again as you think about him.

Billy lifts his head head and looks at you, his eyes a little sleepy. His lips, wet and pouted, find their home on your forehead, kissing it with the softest of touches.