Sweat
by Spwaddict
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Voyager does not belong to me, neither does
Seven of Nine's long legs and large--...Oh, wait. Wrong fandom.
Buffy doesn't belong to me either.
Notes: I learned everything I know about sex from NC-17 fanfiction.
Don't point and laugh yet, I'm trying to make a point. NC-17 fics
opened my eyes to something I never heard of before. I mean, sure I
knew what everyone know about sex, when I was fifteen. The penis,
the vagina, bing, bang, boom, pregnant! But I didn't know about
passion. Love, desire, an aching within someone, a need to be near
them. Real life can be disappointing in that field sometimes, but
I'll always appreciate NC-17 fiction because it gives me something to
look forward to, and Faith never gets sex wrong!
Feedback: I would absolutely love it.
I'm making her sweat.
I can't smell the rotting trash, or the blood and vomit on the alleyway walls. All I smell is the sweat.
Perspiration is slicking her skin.
I'm making her sweat by my eyes.
Hard glares of dominance and daring. I want her to defy my stare and walk away, because I know she won't. She's strong, but she's still young. She's still innocent, and I love teaching girls like her. I'll teach her how to moan and scream and thrash under me. I'll teach her places on her body that will make her cry. How to do it standing up or pinned to a floor. Locked up, or with a key. I'll teach her right where to put her fingers. Two of them entering, three in a moment. Push in, hold it, curve it, a little bit of nails.
She knows all these things I'll teach her, because she can see it in my eyes.
A faint shine coating a perfect face, and she almost glows in the moonlight.
I'm making her sweat by my words.
"I'm going to fuck you."
Any other time she would have laughed, or be frightened away. I've gotten plenty of both in the past. But now is perfect, because we're at our most savage. Now, we're Slayers.
My hand slams against the slimy stone wall she's pushed to. It hits hard next to her right ear. I did it for effect, and it worked. She flinches slightly, scared and unsure. I love this side of her.
"I can smell you..."
My smirk appears, as my head moves swiftly next to her ear. My lips almost tasting her inviting skin. Her neck was so close, shining at me with promises of sweet oblivion. Her heat is radiating off her face as I hover slightly next to her cheek.
My smirk disappears.
"...everything about you."
Her breath is ragged, and my breath is going straight on the nape of her neck, satisfying me with goose bumps all over her perfect body.
I have a sudden urge to bruise her. A flash of red beckons me to slam her hard. Rip off her cloths and dignity with a satisfying tear. Force a breast in my mouth and make her groan as I drag my rough nails down her back. Watch as she grinds against my denim covered thigh, desperately seeking some release. Laugh at her, and make her tell me that she's mine.
I ignore the thoughts, pushing them harshly out of my mind. She's not me. She's not the kind of girl you bruise. She's someone you take your time with, and worship. I want to fall to my knees and praise her like she was a gift from God.
She won't get me weak enough to admit that.
But I'm not so sure, once I hear a low moan coming from deep in her throat. I want to feel my hands slid down her thighs. I want to feel her hands in my hair when I taste her.
I'm making her sweat by wanting her so much.
I look at her face, trying to focus on her for just a second. I see when she bits her lip. Perfect white teeth grasping desperately at the slipping flesh. Light pink flesh being bitten, chewed and sucked on. Something inside me shakes. Shivers.
She's making me sweat, and we haven't even touched yet.