Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 5: Chandler

     He nips at her neck with his teeth, something he's done dozens of times, something she usually gives into. But as he pins her hands above her head against the wall, she resists just a little more. "My cousin will be here within the hour, Phillipe. We shouldn't." She mutters this through her heavy breath.

Phillipe only chuckles.

"What we should and shouldn't do should not be dictated by when your cousin will arrive, Love." She has to hold in her moan at the sound of his pet name for her on his tongue.

His hand moves up her leg, over the inner side of her thigh. He squeezes gently and she shivers as his tongue plays at the skin of her neck and collar. "Are you shameful of what we have, Chandler?" He pauses, staring down into her sweet dark eyes. She quickly shakes her head. Never once has she regretted it. Though they have not defined what it is they are doing, she knows how she feels. She has yet to ask him though. She fears his answer may be opposite of hers. "Never." She leans forward, her hands still restrained and kisses him softly, slowly.

"But I fear he will miss us as he arrives and come looking. I fear he will... see something he should not." She grins at him playfully, nudging her knee upward, gently moving her leg in between his own. Phillipe lets out a low sigh, hungry and feverish. His mouth is on hers before she can take in his reaction. "Then let me make this quick." He mutters against her lips.

Chandler blanches at what that means as Phillipe gets down on his knees before her.

Then, in the blink of an eye, her trousers are off. His hands play at her pale thighs and his eyes wander elsewhere. He drags his nose along the edge of her inner thigh, inhaling slowly. He releases a soft groan of approval. And then his hand comes up to cup her bare sex.

She tries not to squirm but the sudden contact makes it difficult. Her hands are no longer pinned above her, but instead rest on his shoulders as he moves his fingers against her already soaking core. He kisses each of her tender thighs sweetly before looking up at her. He doesn't stop his movements as he watches her face contort with pleasure. "Legs," He whispers to her raggedly. At first she doesn't understand but he quickly fixes that.

He presses her firmly against the wall and lifts one leg, throwing it over his shoulder. He lifts the other, doing the same, so that his face, his mouth is in direct line with her aching heat. "You're going to have to be very quiet." He tells her. And then he dips his head in the slightest. His slides his tongue in between her delicate folds, her sweet, warm juices spilling onto his taste buds as she moans her delight. "Maker!" She shouts as his tongue flicks against her heady clitoris, making her arc her back and her hands go to his hair. She knots her fingers in it, loving the feeling of his thick, luscious locks in her hands.

He growls against her sex, a warning of what he said before. She cries out but understands. "Quiet, I know." She lets out in choppy, heavy breaths. She can't help but moan against it though. His hands cup her rear as he presses her to the cobbles. His tongue moves in circles, roaming over her most sensitive bits, flicking against them and pressing down on that spot that gets her going. His mouth on her is like fire in her gut. She feels it building and burning, singeing her innards as if they are wood chips. She pulls his hair and arcs up, meeting his mouth, wanting more of it, more attention, more force, more speed. If he hadn't asked her for silence, she'd have begged for his cock right then.

He groans against her core and she shudders against his mouth, reveling in the intense feeling of his skilled tongue. He lets one of his hands fall away from her rear and brings it up to her front. He slowly trails it back from where his tongue administers its slow torture, to her tight, hot entrance. She gasps as he pushes one finger up into her. Her eyes shut as she throws her head back, begging the Maker, let her torture end, let her have release.

He moves his finger all the way in, until it goes no further. He wriggles it slightly, twisting and squirming to make her do the same. Her mewls break the air and he pulls the finger out slowly. But when he goes to put it back, sliding into her thick and slick nectar, he adds another finger. She moans again at the tight constriction between her legs. He doesn't hold back then, as she arcs into his ministrations.

Phillipe plunges his slick fingers in and out of her ruthlessly as his tongue presses down on that spot, on her center. She unravels quickly, shouting curses, shouting for him. He releases her, allowing her to slump to the floor slowly as she rides out the shivering, quaking climax. She was anything but quiet and Phillipe bets that anyone near the west side of the battlements heard her shouting, his name on her lips. He chuckles as she begins to regain herself. He sits on the floor, a lovely sheen of her juices at his lips. She makes an enraged face at him and it only cedes in making him laugh more.

She makes it to her knees then and wobbles toward him. "Oh, shut up and fuck me already, you imbecile." She demands having a sudden change of heart after this encounter. He only laughs and takes her lips in his as she straddles him.