Original - Ingrained
May. 20th, 2009 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arghmusesShe was giving up on him, or going to try.
There were enough flirting and sexually tensioned filled innuendoes to last her for this life time and a few more into the future, especially when they all came from the one man she wanted to fuck senseless.
It didn’t start right away, not this want: the want that filled every minute of her day. And it was every minute or very much almost every minute of her day. From her waking moment, to the moments that sleep claimed her, to the times in between.
It started with the new class. It started and like everything new, everyone was nervous and hesitant to try anything or say anything, with a fear of leaving the wrong first impression.
Of course, after a day or two of seeing the same people, a familiarity began to ensue.
It wasn’t until about the end of the second week that he started filling her mind like a rampant beast gone mad.
Perhaps it was when he stretched, elongating his already tall form that he caught her attention, or perhaps more specifically it was during the stretch, when his shirt went up, showing his stomach, belt and a treasure trail of hair that darted downwards.
It would have been so many things that made her eye stray to him: his laugh, the mischievous twinkle in those smoky blue eyes, and the incredibly long legs helped.
However, all that might have been the icing on the cake. The whole fact that he was a bad boy is what would have been that last little thing. The final thing, which sealed the deal so to speak.
A few more days and she could have been all his: if he had even known and if he did things right.
She gave him sweets and tempting smiles, laced with something more sinister. The smiles were reciprocated with winks and things just as sinister; or rather things that made her mind run on the side of the erotic, which wasn’t all that hard to do.
Maybe after days upon days of flirting like that, that’s when she stared to fall. And oh how she fell, like an angel out of grace. Lost in a haze of nothing but him.
It wasn’t fair that her already erotic mind fed her images of the two together, wrapped around each other, mindless fucking and of course, the noises to boot.
The noises are what could have driven her over the edge. The wickedly deep baritone that sounded like thunder over gravel.
One could say that his voice combined with everything else is what put her finally over the edge into a stupendous bliss.
The sound of his voice was liquid sex between her thighs. She could have closed her eyes and just listened to him talk. With that alone she would have been content.
The deep rumbles of when things went his way, the rising pitch of when he got angered, last but definitely not least, his laugh. That was the sound she loved the most. The sound of his laugh was a sound that was deeply erotic to her. With every laugh it was like he was fucking her without touch.
If she could have, she would have recorded him talking, laughing, moaning and saying her name to play over and over again
However, at this point in time, the voice of liquid sex would not be enough.
She wanted her mind to stop with the fantasies: of them lying post-sex on a bed, sweaty and tangled in the sheets.
Of them curled on a non-existent couch, talking of sweet nothings, and maybe a future that they would never have.
The thoughts she wanted to stop most of all would be of them fucking, of him finding and hitting all the wonderful orgasmic spots on her body over and over again.
Of his mouth on her body, leaving her weakened, arching and begging for more.
Of his fingers sliding down her body between her thighs, teasing, tempting and tormenting her sensitive body to repeated climaxes.
The thoughts of his cock entering her, impaling her, making her writhe while her nails raked down his back.
The images of bite marks and bruises so livid from sex so rough it could make a sadist flinch.
Those images would not stop, and it didn’t help when she gave in and let her hand slide between her own thighs. Silently crying out his name, wishing he was there to hear her quiet cries.
Nights of one-sided passion couldn’t cut it for her any more.
She needed to be touched, to be held, and to be told that her lover thought she was beautiful and most of all, that she was loved.
It was the first day that she tried to push him out of her mind that she tried to be a bit colder to him. She couldn’t out right be the Ice Queen she really kept hidden, not to him. She realized only when it was too late, how close she let him get.
She also knew that he wouldn’t return how she felt, and a deep dark sheltered part of her heart broke.
It wrenched a desolate sob from deep within. A sob that was never cried for anyone else, and never would emerge again, save for him.
Part of her wanted to go against everything that was ingrained in her, and cast a spell on him. Just so she could have him for a little while.
She wouldn’t though. She wouldn’t even do a spell that would allow the emotions and feelings that were there to blossom.
It wasn’t in her.
So instead, she would let things die, even if she had to kill it herself.
It pained her and it always would; always did whenever she tried to do it this way.
She was starting to get used to it, and in a few days, it would just be another scar on her heart.
There were enough flirting and sexually tensioned filled innuendoes to last her for this life time and a few more into the future, especially when they all came from the one man she wanted to fuck senseless.
It didn’t start right away, not this want: the want that filled every minute of her day. And it was every minute or very much almost every minute of her day. From her waking moment, to the moments that sleep claimed her, to the times in between.
It started with the new class. It started and like everything new, everyone was nervous and hesitant to try anything or say anything, with a fear of leaving the wrong first impression.
Of course, after a day or two of seeing the same people, a familiarity began to ensue.
It wasn’t until about the end of the second week that he started filling her mind like a rampant beast gone mad.
Perhaps it was when he stretched, elongating his already tall form that he caught her attention, or perhaps more specifically it was during the stretch, when his shirt went up, showing his stomach, belt and a treasure trail of hair that darted downwards.
It would have been so many things that made her eye stray to him: his laugh, the mischievous twinkle in those smoky blue eyes, and the incredibly long legs helped.
However, all that might have been the icing on the cake. The whole fact that he was a bad boy is what would have been that last little thing. The final thing, which sealed the deal so to speak.
A few more days and she could have been all his: if he had even known and if he did things right.
She gave him sweets and tempting smiles, laced with something more sinister. The smiles were reciprocated with winks and things just as sinister; or rather things that made her mind run on the side of the erotic, which wasn’t all that hard to do.
Maybe after days upon days of flirting like that, that’s when she stared to fall. And oh how she fell, like an angel out of grace. Lost in a haze of nothing but him.
It wasn’t fair that her already erotic mind fed her images of the two together, wrapped around each other, mindless fucking and of course, the noises to boot.
The noises are what could have driven her over the edge. The wickedly deep baritone that sounded like thunder over gravel.
One could say that his voice combined with everything else is what put her finally over the edge into a stupendous bliss.
The sound of his voice was liquid sex between her thighs. She could have closed her eyes and just listened to him talk. With that alone she would have been content.
The deep rumbles of when things went his way, the rising pitch of when he got angered, last but definitely not least, his laugh. That was the sound she loved the most. The sound of his laugh was a sound that was deeply erotic to her. With every laugh it was like he was fucking her without touch.
If she could have, she would have recorded him talking, laughing, moaning and saying her name to play over and over again
However, at this point in time, the voice of liquid sex would not be enough.
She wanted her mind to stop with the fantasies: of them lying post-sex on a bed, sweaty and tangled in the sheets.
Of them curled on a non-existent couch, talking of sweet nothings, and maybe a future that they would never have.
The thoughts she wanted to stop most of all would be of them fucking, of him finding and hitting all the wonderful orgasmic spots on her body over and over again.
Of his mouth on her body, leaving her weakened, arching and begging for more.
Of his fingers sliding down her body between her thighs, teasing, tempting and tormenting her sensitive body to repeated climaxes.
The thoughts of his cock entering her, impaling her, making her writhe while her nails raked down his back.
The images of bite marks and bruises so livid from sex so rough it could make a sadist flinch.
Those images would not stop, and it didn’t help when she gave in and let her hand slide between her own thighs. Silently crying out his name, wishing he was there to hear her quiet cries.
Nights of one-sided passion couldn’t cut it for her any more.
She needed to be touched, to be held, and to be told that her lover thought she was beautiful and most of all, that she was loved.
It was the first day that she tried to push him out of her mind that she tried to be a bit colder to him. She couldn’t out right be the Ice Queen she really kept hidden, not to him. She realized only when it was too late, how close she let him get.
She also knew that he wouldn’t return how she felt, and a deep dark sheltered part of her heart broke.
It wrenched a desolate sob from deep within. A sob that was never cried for anyone else, and never would emerge again, save for him.
Part of her wanted to go against everything that was ingrained in her, and cast a spell on him. Just so she could have him for a little while.
She wouldn’t though. She wouldn’t even do a spell that would allow the emotions and feelings that were there to blossom.
It wasn’t in her.
So instead, she would let things die, even if she had to kill it herself.
It pained her and it always would; always did whenever she tried to do it this way.
She was starting to get used to it, and in a few days, it would just be another scar on her heart.
