One Shots (Camren)

Some Like It Hot (Lauren G!P)

Not mine/ Converted
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In the romance novels, it was always sensual; something the leading female didn't entirely expect but didn't have the nerve to push away - it was something she always secretly yearned for.

That's how it always was, without fail.

It didn't matter if the man was a gentle vampire who despised his own existence and found completion in her or a rough, rouge hunter - the epitome of a rugged man - that had his cold heart melted by her relaxed and untapped sex appeal.

The plot never really mattered, because the sex would never change; it was always slow, deliberate and extremely, painfully passionate.

Always intertwined and bashful, always low pleasurable hums and delicate, searing kisses. (Which Camila pointed out were contradictions, but no one seemed to pay her any mind.)

She would soak in every page, hoping that one day, something as powerful and tandrid would happen to her whilst she least expected it. That some man would appear in her life, and after months of sexual tension, he would launch himself upon her and ravish her arduously.

Then, Camila remembered the first time she had sex with Lauren.

She hadn't realized until then that all those books were absolute shit. The authors must have never had sex before, if that's how they described it.

When Lauren thrust her into a wall, it wasn't mysterious or frightening. It wasn't as if she suddenly found Lauren alluring, or that her musk was turning her on.

It was simply intense.

She never once found herself 'whimpering as she sucked along her neck, leaving throbbing welts, showing the world that she was hers.' There wasn't enough time for that pansy-ass bullshit.

It wasn't anything like 'the soft pressure of her big, rough hands on her hips soon gave way to harder, deeper rocking and soon leading her into a full-on head-lolling lubricated rodeo.' In fact, it was more like 'you better fucking find something to hold onto or you're gonna fall off the face of the fucking planet.'

There was no 'biting her lip in terror of letting out a single moan of ecstasy, the lone howl of her inhibitions crumbling to pieces because of some silly fling; something she didn't want to mean anything, but did.'

Hell, Camila was pretty sure between her screaming and Lauren's growling (it was like having sex with a lion or a jaguar), they could've woken the dead.

She knew that every time she was pushed into a clerical closet or on the desk of an elected official whose misfortune it was to have stepped out that everything written in all those books was utter shit.

Lauren was never gentle with a self loathing complex, nor was she the epitome of a rugged man, waiting to have his cold heart melted.

Lauren was ephemeral inelegance, unfazed by time and color. She was willpower and drive and flesh built for sex. She knew every move she'd make from the moment she'd enter a room alone with Camila. She was calculated heat and, well, an unstoppable lover.

How could a page of petty words describe her unadulterated vexation with her jeans when she had her over a counter, her throbbing cock pressing into her from behind?

How on earth had they ever published a single novel when the female was always timid before her? The man always 'looked down upon her, devouring every inch of her naked beauty, deciding how he would relish in her bodily splendors.' Camila only ever crept backwards, enjoying the prolonging of sex as she watched her amazing naked body stalk toward her. (And the black pubic hair really was an event in its self.)

Where did it say that the characters changed positions and proceeded to do it again? They'd only ever do it once in a chapter and collapse like they were dead 'basking in the after glow'. That had never been the case when it came to sex with the green eyed girl.

And another thing - where was the creativity? None of the books ever mentioned sex on the kitchen floor or in a hot spring or at a wedding reception. Why had her sexual education been tainted by books that weren't really telling her what went on?

Where and when and how Camila and Lauren had sex was highly dependant on anything but the mood. She could be tired as a mofo and covered in injuries from a fight they had just finished and Lauren could find an excuse to grind her into a pillar, tree trunk or what have you.

Really, where would the books find sex appeal in that?

There was just something about the way she touched her. The way she ran her nails down her body, the way she would occasionally let her ride (which was always odd) and they way she pulled Camila into her and exhaled across her jaw when she came.

And maybe her penis, too. Camila supposed that played a sizable role in the matters of sex.

Brilliance shined on Camila in the throes of an orgasm (the third of the day.)(For some reason, she liked to keep count.) Whenever Lauren showed any sexual interest, she wouldn't deny her. When Lauren was upon her like a beast, she had never pushed her away.

She was just like the female heroine, who'd never expect it but didn't have the nerve to push it away. She always secretly yearned for it; for the nip at her collar, the compulsive squeeze of her left tit (why did she favor it?) and the surprise when her head occasionally hit something.

Camila decided that the books were wrong. They always had been. But they were only wrong about the men.

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This is NOT mine credit to the author who wrote this.