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clairelutraPreface
Kinks
It was an accident.
At least, that's what Penny told herself.
It started innocently enough. She and Ray were joking and flirting as they were wont to do when they were alone (she had long overcome the shyness that gripped her at thirteen), while Claire was off doing 'public relations' (read: fencing the goods and cleaning up loose ends).
Ray was nose to nose with her, had made some suggestive comment about how she could lead him anywhere, when she reaches up and catches hold of his chin. He stills.
"What," she says, voice dropping intimately as she presses her thumb against the corner of his lips. "Was that all just talk, then?"
He didn't answer.
She presses a little harder, smirking, caught up in the thrill of the game and not noticing his eyes blowing wide. Her thumb slides into his wet mouth, over the crags of his molars, with little resistance.
His breath hitches. She can feel it fluttering over the frantic pulse in her wrist.
She cradles his jaw, wrapping fingers below the bone to press dimples into the vulnerable flesh below, and uses her newfound leverage to guide him back into her worktable. He goes, meltingly pliant and perfectly obedient; does exactly as she gestures and nothing else, nothing more, like anything else was unthinkable.
Had she fully realized what she'd been doing, this would have been a trust exercise, she thinks, dimly, finally looking into his eyes. But this… this was something else.
They're dark, darker than sapphires and burning. They send sharp heat crawling down her spine and settling deep in her gut, mingling with the anticipation that's always, always there.
"And what if," she says, startling herself with the low, raspy timbre of her own voice. "What if I told you to kneel."
He drops, unthinking.
The sudden movement yanks her hand down and forces his own chin up as a result, half exposing his throat to her.
She swallows and wets her lips, considering the sight before her. Slowly, oh so slowly, she tilts his chin farther back, feeling his breath stop and stutter, half through his mouth, half through his nose as his pulse (the one she can feel under her ring finger) does the same. His eyes fall shut before she's satisfied with the position of his head, hands clenching and unclenching loosely on his thighs.
She swipes her thumb under his slick tongue, then over; she explores his mouth like she owns it unconditionally, while he gently, cautiously, almost timidly, flirts around the digit, sucking and stroking, but never, ever pushing or controlling.
She hopes, distantly, that if she pushes it too far, he'll let her know. He looks like she could shove her fingers down his throat and he'd only thank her for it right now.
She squeezes his jaw lightly to get his attention.
It works, to an extent. He opens his eyes, glassily fixed on her clavicle before his gaze wanders up to her face, dazed and fuckstruck and nearly complacent.
"Such a good boy," she coos, reveling in the way his eyes widen. The tiny jump that skitters over his form is the first move he's made without her guiding him since she put her finger in his mouth, she notes. "So obedient."
His eyes are begging, now, longing, almost. She takes pity on him, thrilling that she has the power to do that, that he's nearly desperate because of her, despite the fact that all she did was put her fingers in his mouth and forced him to kneel. "A treat is in order, I think," she says, thinking maybe of dropping down in front of him and wrapping her hand around his length, or maybe pushing him onto her work table and taking it in her mouth.
Both ideas are very, very appealing, but when she looks at him he drops his gaze to the laces of her psudeo-leathers, and he might just as well have burned them off for the sudden, violent, heady rush of heat between her legs. His eyes flick back up to her face, almost guiltily.
"Tell me what you want," she commands, sharply.
"P-please…" he slurs, nearly intelligible. His voice is hoarser than a chain smoker's and fumbled around her grip.
She takes her thumb out of his mouth for the sake of clarity, but he chases it, wanton and needy, before his eyes meet hers again and he stops, abruptly.
"Tell me," she repeats, wanting to hear the words.
"Please, please let me eat you out, let me taste you, please-"
She loosens her laces, reminding herself that she really couldn't break character and had to go slow, had to tease and taunt until his control snapped. She reminds herself doubly hard when she slides her free hand directly between her legs (in order to remove her skin-tight bottoms and lingerie in one go), only to be met with the hot, wet slick of her own arousal. Lightning crackles over her skin when her dry fingers meet her sensitive flesh. Biting down a gasp, she shoves the material as far down her thighs as she can manage and jerks his head towards her demurely trimmed thatch, but halts the movement before he can make contact.
Penny's perception of time slows with the heady anticipation thrumming in her blood, slow enough to feel the cool rush of Ray's breath against her clit, to track his eyes dragging up the tiny slip of stomach exposed by her shirt and corset, up her laces, over her breasts, up to her face, to watch the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallows heavily.
"'Please' what?" she demands breathlessly.
Ray, damn him, barely misses a beat. "Please, Mistress. Anything, Mistress, just- please- please-"
"Y-you ha-ave permission," she croaks, façade of control slipping fast.
He lurches forward the last two inches without help, which is good, because Penny is no longer capable of providing it. He presses the flat of his tongue against her and moans, long and soft and filthy.
Penny keens over him, suddenly on the brink of release, years and years of baiting and flirting and foreplay abruptly coming to a head. Her hips buck, grinding against his mouth without her consent and out of her control.
He lets her, hands only coming up to her hips to steady and support her, to cradle her closer and expose a few more inches of her thighs. He immediately uses the access to fuck her with his tongue, his earlier restraint gone.
She sobs in frustration to find her orgasm floating away from her, only to be wrecked by the suck he gives her clit. The second suck puts stars behind her eyes, and the third, paired with a little flick, sends her sailing over the edge with a shout.
She blinks at the ceiling of the lab as it comes back into focus, stumbling against the table to support herself, limbs heavy with afterglow and a frustrated ache still in her belly. Ray didn't stop for her sudden climax, only moved back to lap at her entrance.
She comes back to herself enough to look down at the head of sandy-blond head of hair between her thighs, thighs that are still held together by her faux-leather pants (at what would be painfully tight pressure if she could feel her legs any more than she did at the moment). She reluctantly tries to push Ray back enough to get them off, but only succeeds at nudging his attentions onto her clit. The resulting shock causes her to fumble her pants even worse than she was already, and she only manages to get them to her knees before she has to give up to the onslaught of Ray's tongue and the fingers he's started working into her.
The second orgasm hits her harder and deeper than the first, rending her asunder, lost to the world for several long moments, and yet Ray still doesn't stop.
She's almost to a third, three fingers buried deep and working her steadily towards insanity, when he finally slows, hips jerking against nothing and a rough groan pressed to her sensitive nub. She nearly swears at him, kicking his side impatiently, alternately begging and threatening him to just finish it. He does, slowly and disjointedly, like he's not too sure of anything right now. Her third release isn't nearly as strong as the first two, but it's the one that finally sates her, turning her insides to jello and her mind to white noise.
She slides off the table and onto the cold floor with her bare ass, and settles in front of Ray while she waits for the world to stop spinning. They both spend the next few minutes getting their breath back.
"So," Penny finally says, because something should probably be said.
"Hmm?"
"Is this what's called a 'kink?'" She doesn't bother to hide the teasing lilt to her voice.
Ray just groans.
"Heh."
"Shut up. You enjoyed as much as I did."
Penny hums, acquiescing.
Ray sighs.
They fall into silence once more.
"So," Penny says, breaking the silence once more. "How would you feel about a collar?"
She means it as a joke, but Ray makes a funny sound that's halfway between a desperate laugh and a wrecked groan.
Uncomfortable and uncomfortably turned on, Penny says the next thing that comes to mind, trying to distract herself away from the enticing images. "I wonder how Claire would feel about a collar?"
Ray chokes.
