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thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2007-07-17 10:50 pm
thunderwitch.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-07-17 10:50 pm
Log; Complete
When; July 14th
Rating; Hard R
Characters; Cirucci {![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thunderwitch} & Tesla {single_eyed}
Summary; There are certain things that are not tolerated, such as betraying a Privaron to the man she's supposed to be following, and certain steps must be taken to ensure certain things don't happen again.
Log;
Cirucci Thunderwitch had been having a bad day. A very bad day. Luppi and Grimmjow fucking, Shiro Megane Kun becoming a faggot, Nell Tu trying to lip off to her, even Alfons taking their side… No. No, even knowing she was going to meet the Sexta Espada later did not make it better. Maybe Tesla would make it better. Maybe. After all, he’d told. He’d tattled, he’d told on her, told Aizen-sama that she’d defected when he was last here, betrayed her to him, and that had been the cause of her meeting with the leader, of that crushing reiatsu weighing her down to crawling on her belly like some worthless worm? Well, she wasn’t the worthless one, here.
“Enjoying yourself, darling?” Cirucci lowered her head to nip at the fraccion’s ear, a hard, solid, bite, straddling his hips and hands pushing his shoulders down into the bed. She’d tried to pretend to love him during the curse day to lure him near enough to wound, to rip and tear, but she’d finally gotten him with an offer to appease her anger, to appease her fury, and here he was. But her anger was not soothed, merely stoked for the time being, a delightful sadism reveling in the weaker Arrancar’s current discomfort.
>>>
Enjoying himself was the last thing Tesla was doing. Sex, while an act he understood on a basic level, was something that happened to other people. It wasn't a personal defect that caused this. It was just the fact that Tesla didn't see the point of the matter. It seemed so primal and base, like urinating or eating. Doing it for pleasure, especially when he had duties to perform, seemed almost irrelevant.
But, it had been either this or fighting and Tesla was not one who saw much good coming from battling one of his siblings and a potential ally for his master, no matter how far said master was from him at the time.
"Yes," he lied, swallowing as he looked away again. It would be over soon. It couldn't last long.
>>>
“Really?” Why wasn’t he looking? She’d even taken off her dress for him, it was rare she actually undressed for sex, hated that scar on her breast and the bare feeling of exposed skin, the feeling of being viewed in her entirety, open. With a sneer, the Thunderwitch gripped his chin and turned his head to face her, rocked her hips against his and leaned in close, dark waves of hair tumbling down about their faces.
“I think you’re lying.” The Privaron breathed, her other hand creeping from his shoulder to his throat, the cold feeling of her dead skin, clammy, iced, against the skin that covered the jugular, the windpipe, and the similar cold state of the weaker male, two bodies that could only produce heat in friction to dull the chill in their bones. But she hated comparing herself to him, let her nails begin to dig in to the skin.
>>>
"It's... uncomfortable," Tesla admittedly, awkwardly. He closed his eyes to avoid her gaze. This was too much. Culturally, he knew she was attractive. Technically, he knew he should be enjoying this.
There just seemed to be something off. He leaned back against the sheets, letting himself be used, carefully passive in this as in everything else. It seemed the only dignified response.
>>>
“Oh?” The Arrancar frowned again, sat up against his hips and rested her hands on his chest.
He was attractive enough, yes, more of a cute little thing than handsome or sensual, but good enough, no Yammy or any such comparison. But he was too… uptight, too duty-bound, too… proper. It bothered her, interfered with her fun, and really, it wouldn’t be as fun to break him if he was just lying there.
With a roll of her eyes the Privaron tightened her thighs, fisted her hands in his uniform jacket and hauled him up, let herself fall, pulling him on top of her and bringing her legs to wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck, in a caricature of giving him control of the situation. She squirmed a bit, to induce response, and brought her lips to his ear, not biting this time, but licking lightly, a croon.
“Try now.”
>>>
"Y- yes," Tesla fumbled, the sudden change in situation putting him very far off his usual boundaries of balance. He rested his hands on the sides of her body, uncertain exactly where to grip. Technically, he had the power in this situation, but it was a puppet's power and his puppet master was being lazy with the strings.
Hesitantly, he shifted his grip, carefully brushing his fingers against an unmarred breast, his single eye watching her face for a reaction.
>>>
Cute.
She stretched up against his hand, let a soft sigh of contentment escape her lips by her ear, nuzzled subserviently into his neck and tried to encourage him. Too shy, too gentle. Cirucci let a long, pale, leg snake up his back, stroke against his hip.
“Come on, Tesla.” The Arrancar whispered, rocked against him with a little smile and hooded eyes.
>>>
Tesla thrust against her, pressing into her with a solid movement, hips as ramrod straight as
ever. His arousal was distinct despite his hesitations on the matter.
But, this was, in a way, his penance for betraying the other arrancar and, although Cirucci was but one of them, she was the one that seemed to require it the most.
>>>
Really, he wasn’t as good at this as the one he served, but she moved with him, rocked her hips back against his in time, gentle, coaxing motions, possibly as soft and welcoming as she’d been in bed for a long, long, time. But right now she needed to be kind, to be soothing, and to lull him into a false security.
“Tesla?” Cirucci moaned against him, kissed at his lips and panted lightly, even if he were unskilled, it was enough to please, to let her enjoy the sexual, which did, she had to admit, take something of the edge of her anger, and, another point that served to satisfy, as petty as it was, was that she was taking a shot at Nell Tu with this as well.
“Why’d you tell on me?~” It was a quiet murmur of noise nearly lost in a small mewl, but there despite even as her hands rested lightly on his back and her eyes took on a predatory glare at the underside of his throat, nails prepared to dig in and tear.
>>>
Tesla closed his eye, unsteadily falling into the rhythm with the much more experienced arrancar. She wasn't bad, soft and warm around him with the tempting feel of a warm blanket after a long day. It was her words, her mind, that kept Tesla from relaxing entirely. Because he knew, even if he were in the middle of something such as this, she held a tenuous control.
"Aizen-sama deserved to know," he breathed, "It was my duty as a subordinate to tell him of what happened in his absence so that he could prepare."
>>>
“And,” She let her hands fall from his neck, nails scraping lightly as they did, stretched them over her head and whined in her throat, arched against him to urge him on, legs locking about his waist and still gentle, rocking against him instead of thrusting, quiet noises and soft cries.
“Why did you have to mention me, specifically?” Cirucci arched again, felt a bead of sweat trace down her breasts and into the Hollow hole there, let it, and closed her eyes, for all the world presenting a submissive picture.
>>>
She was inviting around him, surprisingly gentle for the violence that was so inherent in her nature. It was the only thing that kept Tesla there, as blank as his face was, as little as he enjoyed it.
"I mentioned you all by name, each traitor that I knew of. It was no personal grudge," he confessed, as simple and honest as always.
>>>
“Oh, was that it?” She crooned. “Nothing personal?”
It was a fast maneuver, one moment her arms making as if to wrap around his neck again, to pull him closer, the next fisting in the loose fabric of his half undone uniform, wrenching him to the side and once again using the leverage of his weight coupled with her legs tight around his waist to move them, to find herself on top him again but this time her hands at his throat, her nails digging in harsh to the thin skin there and her face a mask of fury.
“I’m taking it personally, Tesla.”
>>>
Tesla choked, his eye snapping open wide as he reached up to push her away. He felt his throat
constricting instinctively and he didn't intend to die here. Not again.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish's, making it impossible for him to form a coherent reply as he fought for the breath he needed, the sexual encounter forgotten.
>>>
Slowly, slowly, she loosened her grip, let him breathe though her hands were still present, still tight on his throat just as she was still on top of him, occasionally jerking against his hips almost idly, dark violet eyes smoldering in anger.
“You see,” One of her hands left his throat, index finger tipped in sharp black nail trailing up his cheek, tracing the outline of the patch over his eye, his bone mask. “I don’t like it when someone gets me in trouble, darling.” She tapped her finger hard on the eyepatch center.
“See?”
>>>
Tesla shivered, his body shuddering with each thrust. Revulsion was a hard thing to keep from his face, even as she touched the patch that hid his defection from the world, the one that matched Noitora's.
"Aizen-sama needed to know," he whispered, "My loyalty to him supercedes my loyalty to you."
>>>
“You could have… waited until he specifically asked.” She took a certain measure of delight in those shudders, in having that power over him, reaching down with her loose hand to let fingers ply between them.
“You could have… omitted a bit. Played with the truth.” Her other hand left his throat, dug fingers in at this collarbone and began to drag.
“What about… letting him find out on his own, hmm? If he was truly Aizen-sama, he could figure it out, yes?” There was a glint in her eye, one quite mad.
>>>
Tesla fought not to squirm, fought not to show at least that little weakness. She was powerful, far more powerful than him, and it was embarassingly obvious.
"If he was truly Aizen-sama, he would have been disappointed that I had not served him in telling him sooner."
>>>
“Ah, ah, ah.” She wanted him to squirm. “What does he care?” She hated the ones that just worshipped him, thought him so amazing when they hadn’t even lived like she had, hadn’t even KNOWN a time before his presence. Weak. Her nails dug in harsh, harsh enough to break hierro.
“Trying to suck up, Tesla?” She lowered herself to bite hard at his ear before licking gently.
“Trying to win a bit of favor because you let your master die?” Truly, she didn’t believe that, but she knew he probably did.
>>>
Tesla drew in a sharp breath. Her fingers didn't hurt nearly so much as her words. There was that guilt inside him, a perpetual one that only a servant could understand, the guilt of failure and the curse of his pride.
"No," he lied, closing his eye again, "I didn't let him die. You said it yourself, I could not have been of aid to him that day."
>>>
“I’m flattered you believe me~” It was a croon of pleasure, shifting her hips continuously, not only to agitate him, make him hitch and move, but because she wasn’t coming out of this without a little fun herself. “Now.”
“But does… Aizen-sama see it that way?” She giggled, a breathy noise as she felt blood welling up beneath her nails, letting one hand leave his chest to rip off his eyepatch. She hated him looking away.
>>>
Tesla froze before a hand shot up to cover his eye, the tender flesh so unused to the light immediately aching. The soft fabric of his glove curled over the skin as he returned his focus to her, now wary and, more than that, angry.
"That's up to Aizen-sama to decide, Thunderwitch," he breathed, thrusting up into her less than gently, "That isn't for you to decide."
>>>
“Oh, but I just did.” She laughed again, at him, at the angry little posture, the rough motions, the very idea that she’d finally broken that dignified exterior enough to make her shudder in delight.
“Going to do something about it?” Nails spasmed, dug in and remained there, other hand stroking at the glove over his eye as if to threaten to remove that as well even as thrust back with even
less consideration.
>>>
Tesla tightened his grip, uncertain of the feel of her hand, not trusting it not to do something unwarranted. He felt off-balance like this, the familiar press of his eyepatch gone and making him feel more naked and exposed than with his cock buried deep into the female arrancar.
"Did what?" he pressed, frowning.
>>>
“Decided~” Cirucci crooned, a whisper gone husky as she continued to rock against him, to tighten her grip, to dig her nails deeper into the flesh on his chest and let her hand fall from the injured eye and fist in his hair.
“Guilty, Tesla.” She murmured, coiled in her belly the familiar warmth, was disappointed at his performance, with him but she supposed she couldn’t help that. The knowledge that he hated this, that it made him feel guilty, wear that look of disgust behind indifference was enough to make it worth it.
>>>
Tesla's grip loosened just a bit as he gasped, cringing at the pain. He was slipping, losing every bit of the composition that made him such a good servant to such an unusual master such as her own.
"No," he whispered, thrusting against her, trying to force her to climax, trying to make the accusations go away, "He forgave me. He had to have."
>>>
“No~” Cirucci ground back, put her lips against his but did not kiss, spoke against them with corners upturned in a smirk between heavy breath.
“Why do you think he left without you?” She hated saying it, far too close to situations of her own, but she forced them separate, as she forced her desire, forced herself to concentrate more on her hips, on lifting and lowering, on friction, hot and tense.
>>>
Tesla's eye widened and he felt his mouth dry just a bit. He swallowed, shaking his head as best he could under the weight of his hand. It wasn't like that. It couldn't be like that.
"He... didn't..." he grit out, forcing up against her hips with an unnatural frustration.
>>>
“He did.” She whispered back, a foul, foul, venom on her lips, moving against his still, breath coming shorter, words more clipped as she felt blood slicking against her palm, lost her grip and slipped fully down, palm red, thrust hip to hip and muffled a cry by moving her mouth to clamp down on his throat, biting hard to bury a cry when her body reached enough to please, trembling against him even as her grip on hair and in chest remained strong.
>>>
Tesla shuddered, her climax tightening her around him even more, even though he did not reach the satisfaction that this act would have inspired from one of his brothers. He groaned, arching against the pain, although every instinct shouted for him to shrink from it.
>>>
She took a moment, panted light, before she sat up, lifted herself off of him disdainfully and stood, shook of her hair and knelt to wipe his blood from her palm and onto his sheets. The Privaron was all business, redid her hairstyle and redonned her dress, coming to perch lightly on his bedside with a small smile, patting his head and running her fingers through his hair as if she had just pampered a child.
“Don’t do that again, Tesla.” It was a mere murmur, a quiet noise before she bent to kiss his forehead, a starkly false affectionate gesture.
“Good boy.” Cirucci stood, let the disgust for him show on her face when she turned and walked out the door to leave him used and bloodied.
Rating; Hard R
Characters; Cirucci {
thunderwitch} & Tesla {single_eyed}Summary; There are certain things that are not tolerated, such as betraying a Privaron to the man she's supposed to be following, and certain steps must be taken to ensure certain things don't happen again.
Log;
Cirucci Thunderwitch had been having a bad day. A very bad day. Luppi and Grimmjow fucking, Shiro Megane Kun becoming a faggot, Nell Tu trying to lip off to her, even Alfons taking their side… No. No, even knowing she was going to meet the Sexta Espada later did not make it better. Maybe Tesla would make it better. Maybe. After all, he’d told. He’d tattled, he’d told on her, told Aizen-sama that she’d defected when he was last here, betrayed her to him, and that had been the cause of her meeting with the leader, of that crushing reiatsu weighing her down to crawling on her belly like some worthless worm? Well, she wasn’t the worthless one, here.
“Enjoying yourself, darling?” Cirucci lowered her head to nip at the fraccion’s ear, a hard, solid, bite, straddling his hips and hands pushing his shoulders down into the bed. She’d tried to pretend to love him during the curse day to lure him near enough to wound, to rip and tear, but she’d finally gotten him with an offer to appease her anger, to appease her fury, and here he was. But her anger was not soothed, merely stoked for the time being, a delightful sadism reveling in the weaker Arrancar’s current discomfort.
>>>
Enjoying himself was the last thing Tesla was doing. Sex, while an act he understood on a basic level, was something that happened to other people. It wasn't a personal defect that caused this. It was just the fact that Tesla didn't see the point of the matter. It seemed so primal and base, like urinating or eating. Doing it for pleasure, especially when he had duties to perform, seemed almost irrelevant.
But, it had been either this or fighting and Tesla was not one who saw much good coming from battling one of his siblings and a potential ally for his master, no matter how far said master was from him at the time.
"Yes," he lied, swallowing as he looked away again. It would be over soon. It couldn't last long.
>>>
“Really?” Why wasn’t he looking? She’d even taken off her dress for him, it was rare she actually undressed for sex, hated that scar on her breast and the bare feeling of exposed skin, the feeling of being viewed in her entirety, open. With a sneer, the Thunderwitch gripped his chin and turned his head to face her, rocked her hips against his and leaned in close, dark waves of hair tumbling down about their faces.
“I think you’re lying.” The Privaron breathed, her other hand creeping from his shoulder to his throat, the cold feeling of her dead skin, clammy, iced, against the skin that covered the jugular, the windpipe, and the similar cold state of the weaker male, two bodies that could only produce heat in friction to dull the chill in their bones. But she hated comparing herself to him, let her nails begin to dig in to the skin.
>>>
"It's... uncomfortable," Tesla admittedly, awkwardly. He closed his eyes to avoid her gaze. This was too much. Culturally, he knew she was attractive. Technically, he knew he should be enjoying this.
There just seemed to be something off. He leaned back against the sheets, letting himself be used, carefully passive in this as in everything else. It seemed the only dignified response.
>>>
“Oh?” The Arrancar frowned again, sat up against his hips and rested her hands on his chest.
He was attractive enough, yes, more of a cute little thing than handsome or sensual, but good enough, no Yammy or any such comparison. But he was too… uptight, too duty-bound, too… proper. It bothered her, interfered with her fun, and really, it wouldn’t be as fun to break him if he was just lying there.
With a roll of her eyes the Privaron tightened her thighs, fisted her hands in his uniform jacket and hauled him up, let herself fall, pulling him on top of her and bringing her legs to wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck, in a caricature of giving him control of the situation. She squirmed a bit, to induce response, and brought her lips to his ear, not biting this time, but licking lightly, a croon.
“Try now.”
>>>
"Y- yes," Tesla fumbled, the sudden change in situation putting him very far off his usual boundaries of balance. He rested his hands on the sides of her body, uncertain exactly where to grip. Technically, he had the power in this situation, but it was a puppet's power and his puppet master was being lazy with the strings.
Hesitantly, he shifted his grip, carefully brushing his fingers against an unmarred breast, his single eye watching her face for a reaction.
>>>
Cute.
She stretched up against his hand, let a soft sigh of contentment escape her lips by her ear, nuzzled subserviently into his neck and tried to encourage him. Too shy, too gentle. Cirucci let a long, pale, leg snake up his back, stroke against his hip.
“Come on, Tesla.” The Arrancar whispered, rocked against him with a little smile and hooded eyes.
>>>
Tesla thrust against her, pressing into her with a solid movement, hips as ramrod straight as
ever. His arousal was distinct despite his hesitations on the matter.
But, this was, in a way, his penance for betraying the other arrancar and, although Cirucci was but one of them, she was the one that seemed to require it the most.
>>>
Really, he wasn’t as good at this as the one he served, but she moved with him, rocked her hips back against his in time, gentle, coaxing motions, possibly as soft and welcoming as she’d been in bed for a long, long, time. But right now she needed to be kind, to be soothing, and to lull him into a false security.
“Tesla?” Cirucci moaned against him, kissed at his lips and panted lightly, even if he were unskilled, it was enough to please, to let her enjoy the sexual, which did, she had to admit, take something of the edge of her anger, and, another point that served to satisfy, as petty as it was, was that she was taking a shot at Nell Tu with this as well.
“Why’d you tell on me?~” It was a quiet murmur of noise nearly lost in a small mewl, but there despite even as her hands rested lightly on his back and her eyes took on a predatory glare at the underside of his throat, nails prepared to dig in and tear.
>>>
Tesla closed his eye, unsteadily falling into the rhythm with the much more experienced arrancar. She wasn't bad, soft and warm around him with the tempting feel of a warm blanket after a long day. It was her words, her mind, that kept Tesla from relaxing entirely. Because he knew, even if he were in the middle of something such as this, she held a tenuous control.
"Aizen-sama deserved to know," he breathed, "It was my duty as a subordinate to tell him of what happened in his absence so that he could prepare."
>>>
“And,” She let her hands fall from his neck, nails scraping lightly as they did, stretched them over her head and whined in her throat, arched against him to urge him on, legs locking about his waist and still gentle, rocking against him instead of thrusting, quiet noises and soft cries.
“Why did you have to mention me, specifically?” Cirucci arched again, felt a bead of sweat trace down her breasts and into the Hollow hole there, let it, and closed her eyes, for all the world presenting a submissive picture.
>>>
She was inviting around him, surprisingly gentle for the violence that was so inherent in her nature. It was the only thing that kept Tesla there, as blank as his face was, as little as he enjoyed it.
"I mentioned you all by name, each traitor that I knew of. It was no personal grudge," he confessed, as simple and honest as always.
>>>
“Oh, was that it?” She crooned. “Nothing personal?”
It was a fast maneuver, one moment her arms making as if to wrap around his neck again, to pull him closer, the next fisting in the loose fabric of his half undone uniform, wrenching him to the side and once again using the leverage of his weight coupled with her legs tight around his waist to move them, to find herself on top him again but this time her hands at his throat, her nails digging in harsh to the thin skin there and her face a mask of fury.
“I’m taking it personally, Tesla.”
>>>
Tesla choked, his eye snapping open wide as he reached up to push her away. He felt his throat
constricting instinctively and he didn't intend to die here. Not again.
His mouth opened and closed like a fish's, making it impossible for him to form a coherent reply as he fought for the breath he needed, the sexual encounter forgotten.
>>>
Slowly, slowly, she loosened her grip, let him breathe though her hands were still present, still tight on his throat just as she was still on top of him, occasionally jerking against his hips almost idly, dark violet eyes smoldering in anger.
“You see,” One of her hands left his throat, index finger tipped in sharp black nail trailing up his cheek, tracing the outline of the patch over his eye, his bone mask. “I don’t like it when someone gets me in trouble, darling.” She tapped her finger hard on the eyepatch center.
“See?”
>>>
Tesla shivered, his body shuddering with each thrust. Revulsion was a hard thing to keep from his face, even as she touched the patch that hid his defection from the world, the one that matched Noitora's.
"Aizen-sama needed to know," he whispered, "My loyalty to him supercedes my loyalty to you."
>>>
“You could have… waited until he specifically asked.” She took a certain measure of delight in those shudders, in having that power over him, reaching down with her loose hand to let fingers ply between them.
“You could have… omitted a bit. Played with the truth.” Her other hand left his throat, dug fingers in at this collarbone and began to drag.
“What about… letting him find out on his own, hmm? If he was truly Aizen-sama, he could figure it out, yes?” There was a glint in her eye, one quite mad.
>>>
Tesla fought not to squirm, fought not to show at least that little weakness. She was powerful, far more powerful than him, and it was embarassingly obvious.
"If he was truly Aizen-sama, he would have been disappointed that I had not served him in telling him sooner."
>>>
“Ah, ah, ah.” She wanted him to squirm. “What does he care?” She hated the ones that just worshipped him, thought him so amazing when they hadn’t even lived like she had, hadn’t even KNOWN a time before his presence. Weak. Her nails dug in harsh, harsh enough to break hierro.
“Trying to suck up, Tesla?” She lowered herself to bite hard at his ear before licking gently.
“Trying to win a bit of favor because you let your master die?” Truly, she didn’t believe that, but she knew he probably did.
>>>
Tesla drew in a sharp breath. Her fingers didn't hurt nearly so much as her words. There was that guilt inside him, a perpetual one that only a servant could understand, the guilt of failure and the curse of his pride.
"No," he lied, closing his eye again, "I didn't let him die. You said it yourself, I could not have been of aid to him that day."
>>>
“I’m flattered you believe me~” It was a croon of pleasure, shifting her hips continuously, not only to agitate him, make him hitch and move, but because she wasn’t coming out of this without a little fun herself. “Now.”
“But does… Aizen-sama see it that way?” She giggled, a breathy noise as she felt blood welling up beneath her nails, letting one hand leave his chest to rip off his eyepatch. She hated him looking away.
>>>
Tesla froze before a hand shot up to cover his eye, the tender flesh so unused to the light immediately aching. The soft fabric of his glove curled over the skin as he returned his focus to her, now wary and, more than that, angry.
"That's up to Aizen-sama to decide, Thunderwitch," he breathed, thrusting up into her less than gently, "That isn't for you to decide."
>>>
“Oh, but I just did.” She laughed again, at him, at the angry little posture, the rough motions, the very idea that she’d finally broken that dignified exterior enough to make her shudder in delight.
“Going to do something about it?” Nails spasmed, dug in and remained there, other hand stroking at the glove over his eye as if to threaten to remove that as well even as thrust back with even
less consideration.
>>>
Tesla tightened his grip, uncertain of the feel of her hand, not trusting it not to do something unwarranted. He felt off-balance like this, the familiar press of his eyepatch gone and making him feel more naked and exposed than with his cock buried deep into the female arrancar.
"Did what?" he pressed, frowning.
>>>
“Decided~” Cirucci crooned, a whisper gone husky as she continued to rock against him, to tighten her grip, to dig her nails deeper into the flesh on his chest and let her hand fall from the injured eye and fist in his hair.
“Guilty, Tesla.” She murmured, coiled in her belly the familiar warmth, was disappointed at his performance, with him but she supposed she couldn’t help that. The knowledge that he hated this, that it made him feel guilty, wear that look of disgust behind indifference was enough to make it worth it.
>>>
Tesla's grip loosened just a bit as he gasped, cringing at the pain. He was slipping, losing every bit of the composition that made him such a good servant to such an unusual master such as her own.
"No," he whispered, thrusting against her, trying to force her to climax, trying to make the accusations go away, "He forgave me. He had to have."
>>>
“No~” Cirucci ground back, put her lips against his but did not kiss, spoke against them with corners upturned in a smirk between heavy breath.
“Why do you think he left without you?” She hated saying it, far too close to situations of her own, but she forced them separate, as she forced her desire, forced herself to concentrate more on her hips, on lifting and lowering, on friction, hot and tense.
>>>
Tesla's eye widened and he felt his mouth dry just a bit. He swallowed, shaking his head as best he could under the weight of his hand. It wasn't like that. It couldn't be like that.
"He... didn't..." he grit out, forcing up against her hips with an unnatural frustration.
>>>
“He did.” She whispered back, a foul, foul, venom on her lips, moving against his still, breath coming shorter, words more clipped as she felt blood slicking against her palm, lost her grip and slipped fully down, palm red, thrust hip to hip and muffled a cry by moving her mouth to clamp down on his throat, biting hard to bury a cry when her body reached enough to please, trembling against him even as her grip on hair and in chest remained strong.
>>>
Tesla shuddered, her climax tightening her around him even more, even though he did not reach the satisfaction that this act would have inspired from one of his brothers. He groaned, arching against the pain, although every instinct shouted for him to shrink from it.
>>>
She took a moment, panted light, before she sat up, lifted herself off of him disdainfully and stood, shook of her hair and knelt to wipe his blood from her palm and onto his sheets. The Privaron was all business, redid her hairstyle and redonned her dress, coming to perch lightly on his bedside with a small smile, patting his head and running her fingers through his hair as if she had just pampered a child.
“Don’t do that again, Tesla.” It was a mere murmur, a quiet noise before she bent to kiss his forehead, a starkly false affectionate gesture.
“Good boy.” Cirucci stood, let the disgust for him show on her face when she turned and walked out the door to leave him used and bloodied.
ICON D:
Re: ICON D:
A lot.
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...AND IT'S ONLY TUESDAY.
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There is something almost mean~ about using tildes in reference to it~
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Cirucci hopes it gets worse.
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Oh, so much so~
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D:♥no subject
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omg Fiyo I knew it!
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Mums the word.
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Y- ... *nod*
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