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31_days2011-02-03 11:04 pm
treeflamingo.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2011-02-03 11:04 pm
[Feb 3] [Skip Beat] Jump The Gun
Title: Jump The Gun
Day/Theme: Feb 3/The bad touch
Series: Skip Beat!
Characters: Ren, Kyoko
Rating: T
A/N: 500 words exactly, OMG
And then one night he lost control.
The way she pouted at him, the way she spoke his name, the way she smiled with her eyes even when her mouth didn’t move, the way her hands danced when she was cooking and the way her skirt hitched on her hip when she reached for a high bowl – all of it piled together on top of his reason and crushed him. He snaked an arm around her waist (she squealed and dropped a cup into the washwater), and pressed a hot kiss to her mouth.
She responded in kind. It took her a moment of course, but after the blinding desire cleared a little it registered in his mind that she had actually kissed him back. He pulled away and stared at her and she blushed like a rose.
He returned to her mouth (before she could stammer, before she could lose her mysterious confidence, before she could remember to hate him) and worked his love upon it.
He’d meant to take it slow. He’d meant to comfort her, to softly convince her. But an act that starts with a loss of control rarely ends with an assertion of it.
He realized at some point that he had her pinned under him on the kitchen floor, that their shirts were gone and her bra was rapidly losing a battle with his fingers, that she was panting for him and that he could not leave this unfinished tonight.
That was when he carried her to the bedroom. She started to shake when he laid her on the bed. But she never told him to stop, and what with the way she looked, half-naked and vulnerable on his sheets, he might not have been able to even if she’d begged. (This terrified him later, and he wished she had begged, so he could be locked up for what he’d done to her.)
He kept his wits about him enough to find a condom, and to make sure the initial pain (he knew it hurt her – he could read the differences among whimpers) was replaced by full pleasure.
Not enough wits, though, to regret it until the next morning.
She was gone when he woke up (how she left without waking him he would never know, because he would never ask), and he didn’t eat all day.
He found her in a hallway in the evening. She didn’t run away, but she wouldn’t look at him. He noticed how she stood, different from usual, closer to him but uncomfortable.
She hadn’t been his girlfriend before she became his lover, and he was punished for his jumping of the gun: thereafter, she avoided him for weeks.
There was love between them, and he won back her confidence eventually. Won the right to her smiles, to her body in his bed.
But it would lay forever as a separate thing between them, barbed against the love, the memory of the night when both of them lost.
Day/Theme: Feb 3/The bad touch
Series: Skip Beat!
Characters: Ren, Kyoko
Rating: T
A/N: 500 words exactly, OMG
And then one night he lost control.
The way she pouted at him, the way she spoke his name, the way she smiled with her eyes even when her mouth didn’t move, the way her hands danced when she was cooking and the way her skirt hitched on her hip when she reached for a high bowl – all of it piled together on top of his reason and crushed him. He snaked an arm around her waist (she squealed and dropped a cup into the washwater), and pressed a hot kiss to her mouth.
She responded in kind. It took her a moment of course, but after the blinding desire cleared a little it registered in his mind that she had actually kissed him back. He pulled away and stared at her and she blushed like a rose.
He returned to her mouth (before she could stammer, before she could lose her mysterious confidence, before she could remember to hate him) and worked his love upon it.
He’d meant to take it slow. He’d meant to comfort her, to softly convince her. But an act that starts with a loss of control rarely ends with an assertion of it.
He realized at some point that he had her pinned under him on the kitchen floor, that their shirts were gone and her bra was rapidly losing a battle with his fingers, that she was panting for him and that he could not leave this unfinished tonight.
That was when he carried her to the bedroom. She started to shake when he laid her on the bed. But she never told him to stop, and what with the way she looked, half-naked and vulnerable on his sheets, he might not have been able to even if she’d begged. (This terrified him later, and he wished she had begged, so he could be locked up for what he’d done to her.)
He kept his wits about him enough to find a condom, and to make sure the initial pain (he knew it hurt her – he could read the differences among whimpers) was replaced by full pleasure.
Not enough wits, though, to regret it until the next morning.
She was gone when he woke up (how she left without waking him he would never know, because he would never ask), and he didn’t eat all day.
He found her in a hallway in the evening. She didn’t run away, but she wouldn’t look at him. He noticed how she stood, different from usual, closer to him but uncomfortable.
She hadn’t been his girlfriend before she became his lover, and he was punished for his jumping of the gun: thereafter, she avoided him for weeks.
There was love between them, and he won back her confidence eventually. Won the right to her smiles, to her body in his bed.
But it would lay forever as a separate thing between them, barbed against the love, the memory of the night when both of them lost.