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maxen ashley colchester. ([personal profile] achilles) wrote2024-07-18 05:43 pm

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[personal profile] guinegreer 2025-08-12 04:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Being stripped of her clothing is a relief — not because Greer often feels so confined by layers that Ash's gaze seems capable of burning right through, but because she's already warming, flushed with desire for whatever he deems appropriate to give her now. He's always known how to keep her on that knife's edge between denial and satisfaction, winding her up until she's convinced she can't bear anymore and then pushing her boundary further, driving her towards new planes of arousal and the ensuing madness that threatens to overwhelm her completely.

She wants to be here, though, naked and arranged beneath his still-clothed form. He straddles her front, the angle making it seem as though he's looming over her, but is still careful not to crush her chest, or make it difficult for her to breathe. His cock will do plenty of that in short order, and as he shoves the waistband of his pants down, her mouth begins to water; truly, she has an obscene amount of saliva welling up on her tongue at the mere sight of how hard he is, at the idle thought that she could make him swell harder as soon as he settles himself.

There's little reason to speak, little reason to do anything but comply — and as his hand moves over his shaft, her mind can't help but turn to the memories she has, now, of watching Embry do it, watching his hand roughly move over Ash's cock, watching Ash's head tip back, tendons in his neck visible with the pain of it, with the pleasure. Greer obediently opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue; in her mind, Embry's here too, watching them, waiting for permission to run his fingertips along her newly-bared inner thigh. ]


Yes, sir.

[ An assurance, but also a promise — a vow, all on its own, for what they have, what she foolishly hadn't known of before. Ash doesn't wait, doesn't make her wait, but instinctively, she lifts her chin, does her best to relax her throat. He makes her gag anyway, feeding his cock toward her throat before she's fully ready to receive him. His hands feel like irons, branding around her wrists, keeping her held fast, even while the rest of her arches beneath him, thighs gently squeezing together behind his kneeling straddle. It might seem like she's struggling, but in truth, she's exactly where she so often longs to be, serving as a vessel for his pleasure, needing nothing more than to sate him, absorbing every single one of his groans as she coughs, splutters again, tears pinpricking at the corners of her gaze while she fights to keep her eyes open, to keep her attention locked on his handsome features. ]