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"This Song of Mine in Three-Quarter Time" by Chocolateowls for Nidoranduran
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nidoranduran
Title: This Song of Mine in Three-Quarter Time
Author:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chocolateowls
Rating: NC-17
Verse: Games | Gen V
Characters/Pairings: Cheren/Bianca
Summary: Shopping for Cheren is a nightmare, but Bianca hopes a personal gift will do just fine.
Notes: One festive porn coming right up! Fluff, lingerie, and general sexytimes follow. Happy holidays! ♥
-
Three days before Christmas Bianca realizes she doesn't have a gift for Cheren. Three days before Christmas she hears Hilda is back in town and accepts the sign without question, flying to Nuvema almost immediately.
"Hilda?" she calls as she reaches the top of the stairs, knocking once before entering. "I could use some help!"
Bianca steps into Hilda's old room and finds her friend pacing the room, pausing occasionally to rifle through a pile of something or other—clothes, by the look of it, but Bianca can't be bothered to ask. Hilda waves a hand to signal she's listening and Bianca would worry about coming across as rude were she not so desperate. It's difficult enough to find Hilda these days, let alone back in Nuvema, and Bianca refuses to pass up the chance.
"Well," Bianca says. She falters after that, thankful Hilda is too preoccupied tossing clothes into a suitcase to notice. Words failing, hands gesturing uselessly, Bianca opts to sit at the edge of Hilda's bed, on neat, crisp sheets covered in spring flowers. She glances outside at the falling snow and frowns.
"Well," Bianca repeats. She folds her hands in her lap. Her leg bounces nervously.
In the thick of the silence Hilda finally stops to look at her. Bianca ducks her head.
"Hey, what's up?" asks Hilda, voice gentle. Bianca flushes; she thinks just coming out with it might have been less embarrassing in the long run, and she isn't trying to make the situation sound so dire.
"Nothing serious," she says. "It's, uh, just. Christmas."
Hilda scoffs. "Is this about Cheren again? You know he loves your stuff. Get him something dorky, he'll cream himself."
Bianca cringes. "Well, I was, um. I was thinking of getting something more"—she decides against intimate—"personal."
Hilda, blessing of all blessings, catches on instantly with a small oh. After that it's as if a switch has been flipped: Hilda stands tall, then spins on her heel, paces the floor a few times and eventually halts in front of her bookshelf. Kneeling down, she reaches for a book, then hesitates (Hilda doesn't hesitate, what in the world is happening to make Hilda hesitate) before grabbing three books at once and pulling out another hidden behind them.
Before Bianca can ask what's going on, Hilda shoves the book into Bianca's hands, tugs her off the bed and shoves her out the door, shutting it between them. Bianca stares at it dumbly.
"Uh. Thanks!"
---
Bianca spends two days before Christmas pouring over the book, a violet-covered paperback with no identifiable features save for a minimalistic chandelure inked on the inside of the cover. She's in the middle of the third page when she realizes: Shauntal.
There are perks to being best friends with the Champion.
By the fifth page Bianca realizes it's a dirty book, sordid descriptions of romance and sex and naughty bits that have her blushing and hiding her face under the oversized shirt she wears as pajamas (but it's Cheren's shirt and thinking of Cheren as she reads is wow oh my god). The book is addicting, though, and she reads until she can no longer fight to keep her eyes awake.
(She wakes up to Cheren hovering over her, and flings the book across the room in a panic.
He doesn't ask.)
---
The streets of Castelia are crowded on Christmas Eve but Bianca doesn't mind being able to blend into the throng, even if someone does bump into her every few seconds. Stoutland's pokéball stirs in her purse and she covers it with her hand to calm him.
"No worries!" she says, a little loud. She isn't sure if he can hear her over the chaos but he seems to settle down.
The push and pull of the masses eventually brings Bianca to her destination: a decent-sized shop on Mode Street, bright pink sign and all.
To her relief the inside is packed with shoppers. Lingerie lines the walls of the shop, covers the tables and hangs from racks in tantalizing rows. Bianca carefully sidesteps behind a rack to avoid a saleswoman and circles the walls, overwhelmed by lace and frills and sheer fabric.
The book lies in her purse as a reminder and Bianca skims the binding with her fingertips, memories of the story pushing her forward. The woman in the book had seduced the man with racy lingerie and the idea has Bianca possessed, though she has no idea what Cheren would find appealing. Glimpsing around, the most popular choice appears to be pink, though white and red speckle the store.
Bianca is frowning over the harsh fabric of a nightie when she spots it: a pale, dark green babydoll, sheer at the stomach and red adorning the hem, a small red bow in the center. Glancing in either direction and concluding that no one is watching her, Bianca plucks her size off the rack and makes her way to the checkout, balling the material in her hand as if she can hide it from view.
(After her purchase, Bianca rushes outside and releases Stoutland. She buries her head in his fur as they race through the crowded streets and laughs.)
---
That night, when Cheren isn't looking, she carefully folds the fabric and tucks it and the book in a box under their bed.
---
Christmas morning begins when Stoutland jumps on the bed, leaping across the covers, undeterred when Cheren playfully whaps him on the snout. Bianca blinks her eyes open to find Liepard perched on her stomach, patient save for the tail that waves from side to side. She pats him on the head and turns toward Cheren, who rolls on his side facing her, chuckling as he pushes back against Stoutland with the flat of his hand.
"Merry Christmas," he says.
"Merry Christmas." She leans over and kisses him. "Let's go downstairs. I'll make coffee."
---
Bianca pads down the stairs, one of the blankets from their bed hung over her shoulders and trailing behind her. She yawns and reaches to rub her eyes, smudging her glasses instead.
Coffee is imperative.
Cheren already has the pot started by the time she enters the kitchen. Bianca drops into the loveseat near their sad excuse for a tree, small and half-bare and clumsily decorated with candy canes and failed-pokéballs-turned-ornaments. Liepard curls in her lap and Bianca is careful with the mug of coffee Cheren hands her as he dips into the seat beside her with his own.
Bianca watches the snow through the window, large flakes drifting peacefully through the air, until something bumps against her leg: Emboar pushes a messily wrapped box onto her lap, nudging Liepard off, and she smiles. Cheren leans in to Bianca and she rests her head against his, watching their pokémon tear into their gifts and dart across the floor with treats and bells and scarves.
She hums Christmas Waltz and pulls at the wrapping.
---
They spend the day in Nuvema visiting their families, exchanging gifts with old friends and sharing secret looks across the room. He smiles at her encouragingly as she talks with her father; in turn, she makes ridiculous faces as he endures a barrage of questions from his relatives.
(She gets caught once, by his mother, but they join forces and compete to see who can make Cheren crack first.)
By the time they return home they're exhausted.
The pokémon huddle downstairs with their new toys, Emboar's flames keeping them warm, as Bianca and Cheren sneak upstairs and hide away in their room to finally exchange gifts. While Cheren is distracted, Bianca grabs the babydoll and slinks into the bathroom to change.
It's much, much shorter than she first thought. Bianca’s face heats up as she slips the straps over her shoulders, the front dipping between her breasts and the flared bottom not nearly long enough to cover the skin exposed by the matching thong.
She feels sort of ridiculous.
The babydoll is a far cry from the soft cotton and larger sizes she typically wears, and the walk to the bedroom convinces Bianca she'll never get used to wearing underwear that crawls up her butt.
She pauses in front of the door.
A litany of worries crosses her mind, each more absurd than the last, from what if he laughs? to what if he hates this color? She thinks back to the book, to the way her desire lit up with the thought of doing something like that. Taking in a long breath, she counts to ten.
She opens the door.
The room is dark save for a dim lamp lit in the corner. Cheren is perched on the edge of their bed, a small, wrapped box in hand, still dressed in slacks and a button-up from earlier. Bianca's stomach drops and she feels too exposed, too silly, but keeps her hands at her sides. Cheren doesn't say anything, just stares with a parted mouth and wide eyes, so she approaches him, slowly.
She stops when their toes meet, knees bumping together. He sets the box aside and reaches out to take her hands in his.
"Hey," he says. She squeezes his hands and smiles weakly.
"Hi."
Cheren's eyes never leave hers and it keeps her grounded, even as his hands slip through hers and land on her hips instead, fingers slinking beneath the sheer fabric to her waist. Goosebumps spread across Bianca's skin like wildfire and she shivers.
"Cold?" asks Cheren.
"A little," she says. He fans his hands against her sides and traces light circles across her stomach with his thumbs. Bianca's breath hitches.
No amount of touching can distract her from the neglected gift lying on the bed, though. She must glance at it one too many times because Cheren chuckles, picking it up and handing it to her. "Here."
Unwrapping Cheren's gifts is always a struggle, the smooth paper almost too perfect to ruin.
(Almost.)
Bianca tears the wrapping—as thrilling as it's always been—revealing a simple white box marked by a swanna logo. Before she can guess at what's inside she lifts the lid, finding a tiny munna charm resting inside, attached to a thin, silver chain.
"Oh wow," she says, picking it up and dangling it in front of her, marveling at the way the low light dances off the pendant. Cheren plucks it from her fingers and unfastens it, then wraps the chain around her neck and clips it at the back in one go. Bianca exhales slowly as his fingertips trace the chain to where the charm rests between her breasts before lifting off her skin.
"Come here," he says. Cheren takes her hand and inches backward on the bed, pulling her down with him, her knees landing on either side of his legs, necklace bouncing off her skin. She crawls forward until his head reaches the pillow; he places a hand on her arm to signal her to stop once she's perched over his hips and Bianca settles her weight, the rough cloth of Cheren's slacks pressing hard against her. Cheren inhales sharply. Her eyes flutter shut.
Cheren resumes his exploration, slipping his hands beneath the babydoll once more, covering her sides with the whole of his palms and coasting them along her skin. Her stomach leaps at the feeling of his hands enveloping her, the edges of his sleeves grazing her skin.
The slip of her glasses down her nose drives Bianca mad and after the third time of pushing them back up, she pinches the bridge and pulls them off. Taking care to not knee Cheren in the face she leans across the bed and sets them on the nightstand, though when she makes to crawl back down the bed, Cheren stops her with his hands on her thighs. Confusion must show on her face because Cheren gives her a look to pin her in place. She complies, and he hooks his arms between her legs; she stills and grasps at the top of his head to push away, face burning.
"Wait," she protests, looking anywhere but at him, wishing for all the world that she could close her legs but they're spread nearly on either side of his head and oh god.
"I want to," he says, but it doesn't stop her heart hammering in her chest, caught between humiliation and desire. She's frozen up each time he's attempted it before, but this time Cheren uses his arms to spread her legs further and cups her ass, pulling her forward.
Bianca squeaks as she falls off-balance, one hand reaching out to grab the headboard to keep her upright; she gasps as he mouths her through the thin fabric of the thong and her other hand tightens in his hair.
"Oh, god." Bianca's hips grind back and forth in stunted movements in response to Cheren's teasing, his lips curling around her clit through the fabric, tongue dampening the cloth and massaging it in rough circle. One of his hands tugs on the string at the back of her thong, pulling it free, and Bianca sighs, though her relief is short-lived as his next movement drags the string upward until it's taut between her ass and the material rests tight against her pussy. Cheren holds it in place, presses his mouth to her clit and Bianca whimpers at the sensation, the friction driving her mad, fingers wound tightly in his hair as she doubles over.
"Please, please," she begs, barely a whisper, fingers clutching at the headboard to keep her body from giving out and smothering Cheren. The tremble of her body only worsens and she can't keep her mouth closed, panting while he presses kisses in a circle around her clit. She clenches her fists to hold her back from touching herself the way her body is screaming at her to.
Even without direct stimulation Bianca's muscles begin to tense, a slow burn taking hold. It's also the moment Cheren stops.
Bianca cries out at the loss, hips thrusting shallowly in the air. She tugs at Cheren's hair but it only earns her a grunt of annoyance and her wrists clasped in his fingers, where he presses her arms behind her back and shifts his grip to pin her wrists with a single hand.
The tug on her arms drops Bianca's shoulders and she arches back, chest jutting outward. Cheren's free hand slinks beneath her babydoll and cups her breast, kneading it firmly, rolling the nipple between two fingers. A flush fans out across Bianca's body and she forgets to fight the soft sounds falling from her lips as he transfers attention to her other breast.
Cheren releases her, then, and surges forward to kiss her, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of her neck. Bianca gasps between the press of his lips, harsh and insistent while he pushes her hips toward his own with his free hand. Bianca fumbles blindly with the button of his slacks between frantic kisses as Cheren hooks his fingers in the sides of her thong and tries to tug it off; they end up swapping, Bianca tossing the thong to the side while Cheren pushes his pants and boxers just beneath his hips.
Bianca makes to haul his pants down further but Cheren bats her hands away, takes her hips in his hands, and in one motion, pulls her onto his cock.
A strangled sound mixes with Bianca's gasp and she digs her fingers into his shoulders, the cotton bunching between her fingertips. Her body bounces in rhythm against his, kept steady by his bruising grip and she wants to cry with the euphoria of it, a cadence of ah, ah, ah tumbling from her swollen lips, necklace bumping against her skin. The rough pace burns to her core, so, so intense, her mind turning foggy, and Bianca slips one hand between her legs in a fraught attempt at release; the jerky movement of their bodies is too fast, though, and she fumbles trying to catch Cheren’s wrist.
"Stop, stop," Bianca murmurs, squeezing his wrist when she grabs hold. Cheren's eyes clench as he gives one, two more thrusts then remains still, blunt nails pressing into her hips. She doesn't elaborate, simply lifts her hips until she can reach, and touches herself.
Bianca's eyes close as she gently rotates her hips atop Cheren, the open zipper of his pants jagged and cool against her skin. They move in unison, a slow grind of his cock inside her as Bianca's muscles tighten, a growing coil in the pit of her stomach with each slick stroke of her finger. She forces herself to keep breathing, forgetting every so often, clinging to the building tension just a little longer before it releases with her breath.
Cheren's fingers tease her nipples, rolling and pinching and tugging, increasing in pressure in time with Bianca's breathing. Her fingertip swirls her clit frantically, hips making small thrusts against Cheren's cock, his fingers tweaking her nipples, her nearly-naked body against his fully clothed one, and the pit of her stomach twists and furls until her muscles tighten and her finger cramps and she's begging her body, oh please oh please shit oh please, and—
She lifts and crashes over the edge, back stiffening as waves of relief pulse through her, body clenching around Cheren's cock—and Cheren groans, clutching her hips and pulling her flush against him. Bianca sucks in a breath, panting, muscles lax as she comes back down; even through the haze of pleasure, there's an uneasy, desperate tingle deep in her stomach, one that makes her cry out when Cheren thrusts into her again.
"Please," she begs, falling apart against his chest, fingers curling in his shirt.
Cheren wastes no time guiding her hips, thrusting into her rough and fast; Bianca can only lie against him, embarrassing, staccato gasps slipping out unbidden as he fucks her, her nose buried in his chest where his cologne lingers. Cheren's harsh puffs of breath through his nose have Bianca peering up, half-lidded, finding Cheren biting his lip, eyes screwed shut. Pouting, she leans forward and licks a stripe across his ear, catching him off-guard, his lips parting in a gasp. Repeating the action earns her a low moan and a deep, unsteady thrust, and she alternates between licking and nibbling at his ear, whimpering as his thrusts become harder.
"Come on," she murmurs, pushing back against his hips and squeezing her muscles tight around him. "Come for me. Come for me."
She repeats it like a mantra until Cheren is gasping, eyes screwed shut, fingers bruising her hips with a final thrust, his back arching and pressing his cock deep into her as he slams into his release, and Bianca clenches mercilessly around him, watching his lips part silently.
When Cheren's back hits the bed Bianca releases a long sigh, falling limp in his arms as he curls around her. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.
"Merry Christmas," she says. He kisses her again. She hums softly.
"Merry Christmas."
Title: This Song of Mine in Three-Quarter Time
Author:
chocolateowlsRating: NC-17
Verse: Games | Gen V
Characters/Pairings: Cheren/Bianca
Summary: Shopping for Cheren is a nightmare, but Bianca hopes a personal gift will do just fine.
Notes: One festive porn coming right up! Fluff, lingerie, and general sexytimes follow. Happy holidays! ♥
-
Three days before Christmas Bianca realizes she doesn't have a gift for Cheren. Three days before Christmas she hears Hilda is back in town and accepts the sign without question, flying to Nuvema almost immediately.
"Hilda?" she calls as she reaches the top of the stairs, knocking once before entering. "I could use some help!"
Bianca steps into Hilda's old room and finds her friend pacing the room, pausing occasionally to rifle through a pile of something or other—clothes, by the look of it, but Bianca can't be bothered to ask. Hilda waves a hand to signal she's listening and Bianca would worry about coming across as rude were she not so desperate. It's difficult enough to find Hilda these days, let alone back in Nuvema, and Bianca refuses to pass up the chance.
"Well," Bianca says. She falters after that, thankful Hilda is too preoccupied tossing clothes into a suitcase to notice. Words failing, hands gesturing uselessly, Bianca opts to sit at the edge of Hilda's bed, on neat, crisp sheets covered in spring flowers. She glances outside at the falling snow and frowns.
"Well," Bianca repeats. She folds her hands in her lap. Her leg bounces nervously.
In the thick of the silence Hilda finally stops to look at her. Bianca ducks her head.
"Hey, what's up?" asks Hilda, voice gentle. Bianca flushes; she thinks just coming out with it might have been less embarrassing in the long run, and she isn't trying to make the situation sound so dire.
"Nothing serious," she says. "It's, uh, just. Christmas."
Hilda scoffs. "Is this about Cheren again? You know he loves your stuff. Get him something dorky, he'll cream himself."
Bianca cringes. "Well, I was, um. I was thinking of getting something more"—she decides against intimate—"personal."
Hilda, blessing of all blessings, catches on instantly with a small oh. After that it's as if a switch has been flipped: Hilda stands tall, then spins on her heel, paces the floor a few times and eventually halts in front of her bookshelf. Kneeling down, she reaches for a book, then hesitates (Hilda doesn't hesitate, what in the world is happening to make Hilda hesitate) before grabbing three books at once and pulling out another hidden behind them.
Before Bianca can ask what's going on, Hilda shoves the book into Bianca's hands, tugs her off the bed and shoves her out the door, shutting it between them. Bianca stares at it dumbly.
"Uh. Thanks!"
---
Bianca spends two days before Christmas pouring over the book, a violet-covered paperback with no identifiable features save for a minimalistic chandelure inked on the inside of the cover. She's in the middle of the third page when she realizes: Shauntal.
There are perks to being best friends with the Champion.
By the fifth page Bianca realizes it's a dirty book, sordid descriptions of romance and sex and naughty bits that have her blushing and hiding her face under the oversized shirt she wears as pajamas (but it's Cheren's shirt and thinking of Cheren as she reads is wow oh my god). The book is addicting, though, and she reads until she can no longer fight to keep her eyes awake.
(She wakes up to Cheren hovering over her, and flings the book across the room in a panic.
He doesn't ask.)
---
The streets of Castelia are crowded on Christmas Eve but Bianca doesn't mind being able to blend into the throng, even if someone does bump into her every few seconds. Stoutland's pokéball stirs in her purse and she covers it with her hand to calm him.
"No worries!" she says, a little loud. She isn't sure if he can hear her over the chaos but he seems to settle down.
The push and pull of the masses eventually brings Bianca to her destination: a decent-sized shop on Mode Street, bright pink sign and all.
To her relief the inside is packed with shoppers. Lingerie lines the walls of the shop, covers the tables and hangs from racks in tantalizing rows. Bianca carefully sidesteps behind a rack to avoid a saleswoman and circles the walls, overwhelmed by lace and frills and sheer fabric.
The book lies in her purse as a reminder and Bianca skims the binding with her fingertips, memories of the story pushing her forward. The woman in the book had seduced the man with racy lingerie and the idea has Bianca possessed, though she has no idea what Cheren would find appealing. Glimpsing around, the most popular choice appears to be pink, though white and red speckle the store.
Bianca is frowning over the harsh fabric of a nightie when she spots it: a pale, dark green babydoll, sheer at the stomach and red adorning the hem, a small red bow in the center. Glancing in either direction and concluding that no one is watching her, Bianca plucks her size off the rack and makes her way to the checkout, balling the material in her hand as if she can hide it from view.
(After her purchase, Bianca rushes outside and releases Stoutland. She buries her head in his fur as they race through the crowded streets and laughs.)
---
That night, when Cheren isn't looking, she carefully folds the fabric and tucks it and the book in a box under their bed.
---
Christmas morning begins when Stoutland jumps on the bed, leaping across the covers, undeterred when Cheren playfully whaps him on the snout. Bianca blinks her eyes open to find Liepard perched on her stomach, patient save for the tail that waves from side to side. She pats him on the head and turns toward Cheren, who rolls on his side facing her, chuckling as he pushes back against Stoutland with the flat of his hand.
"Merry Christmas," he says.
"Merry Christmas." She leans over and kisses him. "Let's go downstairs. I'll make coffee."
---
Bianca pads down the stairs, one of the blankets from their bed hung over her shoulders and trailing behind her. She yawns and reaches to rub her eyes, smudging her glasses instead.
Coffee is imperative.
Cheren already has the pot started by the time she enters the kitchen. Bianca drops into the loveseat near their sad excuse for a tree, small and half-bare and clumsily decorated with candy canes and failed-pokéballs-turned-ornaments. Liepard curls in her lap and Bianca is careful with the mug of coffee Cheren hands her as he dips into the seat beside her with his own.
Bianca watches the snow through the window, large flakes drifting peacefully through the air, until something bumps against her leg: Emboar pushes a messily wrapped box onto her lap, nudging Liepard off, and she smiles. Cheren leans in to Bianca and she rests her head against his, watching their pokémon tear into their gifts and dart across the floor with treats and bells and scarves.
She hums Christmas Waltz and pulls at the wrapping.
---
They spend the day in Nuvema visiting their families, exchanging gifts with old friends and sharing secret looks across the room. He smiles at her encouragingly as she talks with her father; in turn, she makes ridiculous faces as he endures a barrage of questions from his relatives.
(She gets caught once, by his mother, but they join forces and compete to see who can make Cheren crack first.)
By the time they return home they're exhausted.
The pokémon huddle downstairs with their new toys, Emboar's flames keeping them warm, as Bianca and Cheren sneak upstairs and hide away in their room to finally exchange gifts. While Cheren is distracted, Bianca grabs the babydoll and slinks into the bathroom to change.
It's much, much shorter than she first thought. Bianca’s face heats up as she slips the straps over her shoulders, the front dipping between her breasts and the flared bottom not nearly long enough to cover the skin exposed by the matching thong.
She feels sort of ridiculous.
The babydoll is a far cry from the soft cotton and larger sizes she typically wears, and the walk to the bedroom convinces Bianca she'll never get used to wearing underwear that crawls up her butt.
She pauses in front of the door.
A litany of worries crosses her mind, each more absurd than the last, from what if he laughs? to what if he hates this color? She thinks back to the book, to the way her desire lit up with the thought of doing something like that. Taking in a long breath, she counts to ten.
She opens the door.
The room is dark save for a dim lamp lit in the corner. Cheren is perched on the edge of their bed, a small, wrapped box in hand, still dressed in slacks and a button-up from earlier. Bianca's stomach drops and she feels too exposed, too silly, but keeps her hands at her sides. Cheren doesn't say anything, just stares with a parted mouth and wide eyes, so she approaches him, slowly.
She stops when their toes meet, knees bumping together. He sets the box aside and reaches out to take her hands in his.
"Hey," he says. She squeezes his hands and smiles weakly.
"Hi."
Cheren's eyes never leave hers and it keeps her grounded, even as his hands slip through hers and land on her hips instead, fingers slinking beneath the sheer fabric to her waist. Goosebumps spread across Bianca's skin like wildfire and she shivers.
"Cold?" asks Cheren.
"A little," she says. He fans his hands against her sides and traces light circles across her stomach with his thumbs. Bianca's breath hitches.
No amount of touching can distract her from the neglected gift lying on the bed, though. She must glance at it one too many times because Cheren chuckles, picking it up and handing it to her. "Here."
Unwrapping Cheren's gifts is always a struggle, the smooth paper almost too perfect to ruin.
(Almost.)
Bianca tears the wrapping—as thrilling as it's always been—revealing a simple white box marked by a swanna logo. Before she can guess at what's inside she lifts the lid, finding a tiny munna charm resting inside, attached to a thin, silver chain.
"Oh wow," she says, picking it up and dangling it in front of her, marveling at the way the low light dances off the pendant. Cheren plucks it from her fingers and unfastens it, then wraps the chain around her neck and clips it at the back in one go. Bianca exhales slowly as his fingertips trace the chain to where the charm rests between her breasts before lifting off her skin.
"Come here," he says. Cheren takes her hand and inches backward on the bed, pulling her down with him, her knees landing on either side of his legs, necklace bouncing off her skin. She crawls forward until his head reaches the pillow; he places a hand on her arm to signal her to stop once she's perched over his hips and Bianca settles her weight, the rough cloth of Cheren's slacks pressing hard against her. Cheren inhales sharply. Her eyes flutter shut.
Cheren resumes his exploration, slipping his hands beneath the babydoll once more, covering her sides with the whole of his palms and coasting them along her skin. Her stomach leaps at the feeling of his hands enveloping her, the edges of his sleeves grazing her skin.
The slip of her glasses down her nose drives Bianca mad and after the third time of pushing them back up, she pinches the bridge and pulls them off. Taking care to not knee Cheren in the face she leans across the bed and sets them on the nightstand, though when she makes to crawl back down the bed, Cheren stops her with his hands on her thighs. Confusion must show on her face because Cheren gives her a look to pin her in place. She complies, and he hooks his arms between her legs; she stills and grasps at the top of his head to push away, face burning.
"Wait," she protests, looking anywhere but at him, wishing for all the world that she could close her legs but they're spread nearly on either side of his head and oh god.
"I want to," he says, but it doesn't stop her heart hammering in her chest, caught between humiliation and desire. She's frozen up each time he's attempted it before, but this time Cheren uses his arms to spread her legs further and cups her ass, pulling her forward.
Bianca squeaks as she falls off-balance, one hand reaching out to grab the headboard to keep her upright; she gasps as he mouths her through the thin fabric of the thong and her other hand tightens in his hair.
"Oh, god." Bianca's hips grind back and forth in stunted movements in response to Cheren's teasing, his lips curling around her clit through the fabric, tongue dampening the cloth and massaging it in rough circle. One of his hands tugs on the string at the back of her thong, pulling it free, and Bianca sighs, though her relief is short-lived as his next movement drags the string upward until it's taut between her ass and the material rests tight against her pussy. Cheren holds it in place, presses his mouth to her clit and Bianca whimpers at the sensation, the friction driving her mad, fingers wound tightly in his hair as she doubles over.
"Please, please," she begs, barely a whisper, fingers clutching at the headboard to keep her body from giving out and smothering Cheren. The tremble of her body only worsens and she can't keep her mouth closed, panting while he presses kisses in a circle around her clit. She clenches her fists to hold her back from touching herself the way her body is screaming at her to.
Even without direct stimulation Bianca's muscles begin to tense, a slow burn taking hold. It's also the moment Cheren stops.
Bianca cries out at the loss, hips thrusting shallowly in the air. She tugs at Cheren's hair but it only earns her a grunt of annoyance and her wrists clasped in his fingers, where he presses her arms behind her back and shifts his grip to pin her wrists with a single hand.
The tug on her arms drops Bianca's shoulders and she arches back, chest jutting outward. Cheren's free hand slinks beneath her babydoll and cups her breast, kneading it firmly, rolling the nipple between two fingers. A flush fans out across Bianca's body and she forgets to fight the soft sounds falling from her lips as he transfers attention to her other breast.
Cheren releases her, then, and surges forward to kiss her, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of her neck. Bianca gasps between the press of his lips, harsh and insistent while he pushes her hips toward his own with his free hand. Bianca fumbles blindly with the button of his slacks between frantic kisses as Cheren hooks his fingers in the sides of her thong and tries to tug it off; they end up swapping, Bianca tossing the thong to the side while Cheren pushes his pants and boxers just beneath his hips.
Bianca makes to haul his pants down further but Cheren bats her hands away, takes her hips in his hands, and in one motion, pulls her onto his cock.
A strangled sound mixes with Bianca's gasp and she digs her fingers into his shoulders, the cotton bunching between her fingertips. Her body bounces in rhythm against his, kept steady by his bruising grip and she wants to cry with the euphoria of it, a cadence of ah, ah, ah tumbling from her swollen lips, necklace bumping against her skin. The rough pace burns to her core, so, so intense, her mind turning foggy, and Bianca slips one hand between her legs in a fraught attempt at release; the jerky movement of their bodies is too fast, though, and she fumbles trying to catch Cheren’s wrist.
"Stop, stop," Bianca murmurs, squeezing his wrist when she grabs hold. Cheren's eyes clench as he gives one, two more thrusts then remains still, blunt nails pressing into her hips. She doesn't elaborate, simply lifts her hips until she can reach, and touches herself.
Bianca's eyes close as she gently rotates her hips atop Cheren, the open zipper of his pants jagged and cool against her skin. They move in unison, a slow grind of his cock inside her as Bianca's muscles tighten, a growing coil in the pit of her stomach with each slick stroke of her finger. She forces herself to keep breathing, forgetting every so often, clinging to the building tension just a little longer before it releases with her breath.
Cheren's fingers tease her nipples, rolling and pinching and tugging, increasing in pressure in time with Bianca's breathing. Her fingertip swirls her clit frantically, hips making small thrusts against Cheren's cock, his fingers tweaking her nipples, her nearly-naked body against his fully clothed one, and the pit of her stomach twists and furls until her muscles tighten and her finger cramps and she's begging her body, oh please oh please shit oh please, and—
She lifts and crashes over the edge, back stiffening as waves of relief pulse through her, body clenching around Cheren's cock—and Cheren groans, clutching her hips and pulling her flush against him. Bianca sucks in a breath, panting, muscles lax as she comes back down; even through the haze of pleasure, there's an uneasy, desperate tingle deep in her stomach, one that makes her cry out when Cheren thrusts into her again.
"Please," she begs, falling apart against his chest, fingers curling in his shirt.
Cheren wastes no time guiding her hips, thrusting into her rough and fast; Bianca can only lie against him, embarrassing, staccato gasps slipping out unbidden as he fucks her, her nose buried in his chest where his cologne lingers. Cheren's harsh puffs of breath through his nose have Bianca peering up, half-lidded, finding Cheren biting his lip, eyes screwed shut. Pouting, she leans forward and licks a stripe across his ear, catching him off-guard, his lips parting in a gasp. Repeating the action earns her a low moan and a deep, unsteady thrust, and she alternates between licking and nibbling at his ear, whimpering as his thrusts become harder.
"Come on," she murmurs, pushing back against his hips and squeezing her muscles tight around him. "Come for me. Come for me."
She repeats it like a mantra until Cheren is gasping, eyes screwed shut, fingers bruising her hips with a final thrust, his back arching and pressing his cock deep into her as he slams into his release, and Bianca clenches mercilessly around him, watching his lips part silently.
When Cheren's back hits the bed Bianca releases a long sigh, falling limp in his arms as he curls around her. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.
"Merry Christmas," she says. He kisses her again. She hums softly.
"Merry Christmas."