#trans!rain

There isn't a lot of pre-amble. They've talked about it to death, and despite the tension in Rain's shoulders--the way he keeps glancing toward the hallway--he moves toward her with intent. "You're late," she admonishes, and Rain has the decency to blush, to bow his head. "I know." And Aurora could be mad at him--could punish him. But where's the fun in that? Really, she's just glad he's here, smelling already like arousal. "You can close the door, if you want," she offers--a whisper--a way out, but Rain shakes his head. And Aurora has to stifle something--a laugh; a snort; an amused eyeroll. Because of course, Rain isn't looking over his shoulder because he's worried he'll be caught. He's looking over his shoulder because he's worried he won't be. Aurora glances away from Rain's lithe form for a second, checks her phone. When she looks back Rain's naked and already sinking to his knees. Aurora shifts, puts both feet on the floor, straightens up, leaning closer to the water ghoul. He shuffles forward until he can slip one knee between her feet. "I want them both gleaming," she says reaching down to card her hand through his curls, to scratch her nails behind the shell of his ear. He twitches, breath hitching. "When have I ever let you down?" he rasps and she rewards him with a kiss between his horns before she leans back, feigns like the image of him like this doesn't ruin her. She should have worn less--certainly not pants--because then she could have made him eat her out while he rode her boot. Oh well. Next time. The noise Rain makes at the first drag sets her skin on fire. He whines--high pitched, desperate. After a few rolls of his hips she can't pretend she doesn't care anymore and she moves. Leaning forward, looking down to watch the way he slides over the toe of her boot. Grinding his clit down on the top of the platformed sole with each pass. She watches, mouth watering, at the slick that gets left behind. Can't get enough of knowing that her boots will reek of Rain. That she will probably never get the smell off. That she'll be on stage, on her platform, smelling him while she performs. She can't wait. She drags her thumb over his cheekbone one last time before Rain curls in on himself, doubling over, pressing his forehead to her knee, wrapping one arm around her calf to keep her stationary, gripping her thigh tightly with the other hand. He's loud enough now that every ghoul in abbey has probably heard him. "Don't forget you have to do both," she says, pulling out her phone, making a show of scrolling through instagram, pretending she isn't watching the way sweat starts to bead at Rain's temples. That she isn't listening to the delicious hitch of his breathing. Rain groans. She can't tell if it's in response to her or the way his clit catches against the rubber. It doesn't matter. His fingers shake against her leg. He nods, it's desperate. "I know," he pants. "You better not cum until they're spotless," Aurora says, leaning back, feeling the warm puff of Rain's breath against her kneecap through the fabric of her leggings. "Won't," his voice is filled with ragged desperation that turns Aurora's blood molton. He'll fail. She's counting on it.