albinomilksnake | Open RP: Smutty nonsense

Which honestly only serves to encourage her more.

"Thought we were family." She says, all low and breathy through her teeth - through a grin that's just as malicious as it is eager. "You don't mind family having the upper hand now, do you?"

The heel of her palm digs in under the seam of his trousers, slides up lazily till her fingers touch shirt tails. Upper hand. Literally.

"I don't know--" Talbot begins, the last syllable docked short when her hand finds him. He exhales harshly, his fingers biting into her hipbones. It takes a tense, shuddering moment for the sensation to even out and let his head out of its vice long enough to finish his thought.

"I've never had a sister."

"That's sick, mate." Not that she isn't chuckling as she says it, enjoying the sting of his nails sinking in through fabric and settling against bone. Keeps kneading away as she looms over his tense angles, takes in the sight of his face while she does. Control. It's been a long bloody time since that was back in her hands.

"This wasn't my idea," he reminds her. Tempered perhaps by a slipping determination to save face, his voice is remarkably even now. But the rest of his body tells Frazer everything she needs to know: a thin sheen of perspiration gathers at his temples, his Adam's apple works soundlessly in his throat, and he tilts his hips eagerly up into the pressure of her skillful hand.

"Suppose you're right."

And she curls her fingers under him then, rolling the hard points of her thumbs over exposed skin, momentum of it driving her hands down to grab hold of whatever fabric's left in the way and pull his hips free; can't work properly with no space for it, after all.

"Will she mind?" The thought slips in unexpectedly. Inexplicably, even, given that she doesn't share Talbot's admiration of the woman running it all.

The conscious part of his brain doesn't even register his hips lifting to allow Frazer room to free him. It's preoccupied by the beating of his pulse in his ears and--more significantly--in his moisture-tipped cock as it sways free of his underwear.

But he does bite down on his tongue when her question pierces the fog, and he puts a hand on her wrist.

There is no doubt in his mind Marlowe would disapprove.

"We...can't. We shouldn't."

Ah.

Frazer shifts up slightly, leans into the pressure on her wrist as casually as she can manage. Bright eyes flick down to the lines of his hips. "Don't think you really mean that."

He means it. But intention isn't worth a thing on its own, and Talbot doesn't want her hand anywhere but on his cock. His grip on her wrist weakens when she presses down into him, his breath comes hot out of his nose when he grits his teeth.

But beyond that one whimper of resistance, he says nothing.

His mind might, but the rest of him--

She finishes pressing down, resting her teeth against the solid weight of his collarbone through the thin, expensive fabric of his shirt. Bites down. Rolls clothed hips over his when his grip wanes, just for the sound of his breath hitching up in his throat at the tail end of every arc.

"Don't worry: I won't say a word."

There is no resisting her. Even if he had doubted Frazer's word, he is too far gone to let the threat of punishment stop him. So he submits: abruptly releases her arm and turns his hand over, resting his palm on her inner thigh, his fingertips biting down into her soft, covered skin as she rocks and grinds into him.

The fabric is harsh on his bare, over-sensitive skin. In seconds she's already worked his blood into a frenzy, his heart drumming in his ears and his body twitching reflexively with every touch.

It's certainly not a gentle way to get him worked up, but in her opinion, nothing worth it ever is. And it's good, the thought of breaking the rules, when day in and day out for months on end all she's done is stick to someone else's expectations. The idea of dragging him down with her.

So Frazer keeps the rhythm, tugs her jacket off and her shirt along with it. It isn't until her hand curls around the swollen arch of his cock that she--

"You know how this works, right?" Because if not, she's more than content to give a crash course.

"I've a feeling...I've a feeling I'm going to find out either way," Talbot says hoarsely, exhaling hot, shaky breaths through her hair. That he can speak at all is astounding, considering the only coherent thought he can put together otherwise is how desperately he wants her to show him.

"I'll take that as a no, then." murmured off against his skin, low and deliberate and with more teeth than necessary to form words. But she doesn't ease off (does she ever, really?) just keeps the pressure on with that aggressively choking hold, rolls the tug of her wrist in time with how she barely cants her hips.

He is impossibly hard, harder than he's ever been and twitching with tension in her grip. Both hands are on her hips again, searching for a handhold he'll never find as long as she keeps at him like this. But it can't last, because she will have a mess--literally--on hers in a moment...he's so close.

He is, and she can feel it. A slow swell under the curve of her hand that inspired her to add a dose of haste to the mix, despite the start of a cramp in the muscles of her upper arm. Her brows knit at the sight of him like that: completely prone beneath her, breath slipping out through gritted teeth.

It feels good. And she's not even getting off yet.

And it's the last thing a rational Talbot would want out of this encounter: to be manhandled and humiliated by a new recruit. To embarrass himself by losing control and bathing her hand and their clothes in a tangible physical reminder of the fact.

But he isn't rational. His world is his cock in her hand, and he presses into that warm, aching sensation until a liquid rush releases from somewhere low in his belly and a heavy blanket of warmth consumes his senses.

He is hardly aware of his hips thrusting against Frazer, or the choked cry leaving his throat, or even the sticky outpouring from his throbbing cock as he comes.

Well it's about as much as she expected. He's young, inexperienced-- honestly if the poor sod gets himself off at all she'd be completely surprised.

"Better?"Chloe asks, leaning back far enough to drag her palm down the front of his waistcoat. What part of it isn't already soaked right through.

If he could see straight, he might have some choice words for her about the mess. But coming down off the high of release, he doesn't care--he doesn't even notice.

When he's able to focus his eyes again, Talbot meets Frazer's gaze. He would glare at her if he could, but a lingering satisfaction that reaches deep as his bones blunts his expression.

"We shouldn't have done that," he says quietly.

"Doesn't look like you regret it." Much, anyway, though most of it she can attribute to the slack in his muscles. Even the line of his jaw's gone soft enough that when she presses her fingers to it-- tilts it up just a touch farther-- he's soft and malleable in the palm of her hand.

"Care to try again?"

Talbot flinches from the touch, though only just. There isn't a tense muscle in his body; resisting is like trying to swim upstream, so he lets go.

He shakes his head numbly, but to his surprise certain spent portions of his anatomy react to her suggestion, his half-hard cock twitching against the inside of his thigh. In a way, he's grateful. He doesn't want to say the words, but he wants more. He wants it desperately.

"No?" She asks; cruel only from the obvious fact that he wants to go once more. Frazer slides back, straightens the fabric of her shirt from where it's been tangled. "Suit yourself, then."

It's cruel, yes, but it's also a blessing. Talbot doesn't realize he's been holding his breath until he exhales in Frazer's sudden absence--or near absence, compared with the searing heat of her body riding over his not a moment before.

"What's in it for you?" It isn't a yes or a no, it's a question.

"Well I should hope that once you get a bit more used to this, I'll be getting one hell of a lot more out of this than a three minute hand job." There's no hiding how sharp her grin is when she says it; the comment's shameless, and so is she.

"Then you expect to do this again." He's recovered enough to sound doubtful as he works, clumsily but quickly, at putting himself back in order. Because although he is desperate to feel her hand on him again, he knows he can't allow it.

Open RP: Smutty nonsense

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