Two Punks In Love

Unusual Phenomenon

Check out the "soul song" above. Oh. and....

STEAM WARNING!!!!!!

Kat

He pushes the scrap of my dress, down, down, down. Over my breasts, over my belly. It falls to the floor and I am clothed only in a delicate golden pair of panties.

His eyes rake over me with a glow softer than the candlelight surrounding us, but his voice is firm and low.

"Mine," he repeats, as he strips off his own shirt, heedless of the buttons that fall to the floor.

I nod, absolutely mute with a feeling of mild terror. I'm not afraid of Trace, I'm only afraid that he's going to touch me and I'm going to dissolve. Swoon, or sink to my knees, or tremble so violently that he stops. I feel drunk with desire. My emotions are still spinning wildly around from the thrill of the music we just made and now he's stripped me nearly naked. Everything I am rushes to my exposed skin. I feel my nipples harden to the point of pain as his gaze locks on me, the Lucifer brow pitching its interest in my fuller tits with their much larger, dusky caps.

He reaches for my left with his right hand, almost casually. Testing its weight, running a featherlight thumb over the nipple. At my sides, my fingers voluntarily splay, tense and wide. How can one small touch be so overwhelming?

I close my eyes trying to find my equilibrium. I feel so high, beneath his touch.

He is a drug. He is my ecstasy.

I wrap my right hand around my left wrist.

This is too much already. I am already out of control Why does he make me feel so much?

At once, his chest is at my back, supporting me, and I find my wrists captured in his hands.

"No," he whispers. "You don't get to panic. You don't get to snap. You don't get to scrape. You don't get to do anything but feel my love. You are mine, and you are loved."

His chest is burning hot and I melt back against his heat. I want to tell him so many things, but all I can manage to say is, "I love you, too."

His fingers tighten around my wrists, and it feels good. His strength is my comfort. "I know you do. But your love has been like a candle in the wind, for a while now. And I need more than that. I need your courage and your faith burning bright. I need you to remember that you're fearless. We..." his hands leave my wrists and cup my belly. "We need the HellKat."

"I know," I whisper. "I'm still her..." My fingers are gripping his jean clad thighs, kneeding, pleading, needing... "Call her out," I beg him.

His hands rise to my breasts, cupping, squeezing, pinching. "Oh, I intend to."

The whimpers I make do not sound like a HellKat though. I mewl like a kitten.

Like he can smell my desire, he asks. "Are you wet for me?"

I nod, my head lolling against he shoulder as I nearly break my own fingers, twisting them in the rips and loose threads of his holey jeans. His hands leave off mauling my breasts. In one quick motion he has ripped my panties off and he jerks them from between my legs, flinging them to the floor. One large hand supports my lower belly as one pushes inexorably through my swollen tissue, until it reaches the slippery pool of my desire

I pant and moan as he smears me with my own wetness, coating every pink part of my sex. He massages me, pulling, pressing, spreading, and I am dripping like hot oil.

"Oh god," I slide against him with my entire body, my knees wanting to buckle, my spine refusing to and drawing me back up. I feel my fingers gain purchase inside the rips in his jeans. He groans as my fingernails dig into skin