auroraexpress | The Ninth Trial

Pretty sure that depends on the guy.

[ Are they really having this conversation while getting ready to fuck? It sure looks that way. ]

See me? I like 'em all sizes. Big, small... Breasts are really great. My personal opinion? Bigger means there's more of 'em to enjoy.

[ His cock free at last, he punctuates that sentence by rubbing it between her legs. ]

[they are absolutely having this conversation now. she's had it a few times and it's like. marginally clicking, but self-esteem wasn't built in a day.

He says that means there's more of them to enjoy and she's never...really thought of it like that, actually, no one's framed it like that before but then--]

Does that not make them more lewd--ah!

[She starts to rub between her and she jerks at the contact before her hips start to roll, eager and hungry.]

You know... I don't think size is really gonna affect how lewd breasts are. They're no more or less lewd than how you present them.

[ He rubs the length of himself languidly between her again. ]

And honestly, I think trying to make size a factor in lewdness is kinda dumb.

[She hears him and is listening, but he is making it difficult with the way he is moving. Why won't he just...all he needs to do is push....!

She bites down on the back of a gloved finger and her brow quivers]

C-Crow-san...

[It is something to think about, but it hasn't stopped other people from making their judgements about her. Especially one person in particular.]

[ All he needs to do is push but he's enjoying teasing the hell out of the both of them. And so he keeps languidly rubbing against her. ]

I like the way you say my name. But you know what I like more?

[ Other people are dumb, listen to Crow instead. ]

[She moves with him, not quite a slave of his ministrations, but hardly free either. She cannot help but want and seek more, her hips finding an undulating rhythm to match, but she is not so far gone as to force him or beg.

She can get as good as she gives or better. She takes a moment to answer and pulls her finger away, her voice husky but clear enough to be heard over the rolling waves.]

W-what is it...?

Hearing you moan it.

[ And with that, he plunges smoothly inside of her. ]

Crow-san!

[It's what she wanted and yet it feels like cheating. Because he gets exactly what he wants. She arches up into him and moans his name, deep and rich, each syllable lengthened and dripping in hot desire.

It's not the only thing dripping. The entry is smooth, they always are, because she cannot help wanting him as hard and as much as she does. But she is a tight fit and feels herself squeeze round him without meaning to, but she hardly fights it. It is not as though she want him to leave.]

Exactly like that.

[ He murmurs the words in satisfaction even as he feels the way she jealously tightens around him, all but demanding he stay inside her. As if he intends to stop! He begins to move inside her, no less languid than when he was rubbing against her even as this clearly has more of an impact on him. His pupils are blown wide with lust as he looks down at her, at the way she arches against him, at the way she moans.

He tweaks at her nipples through the leotard he still never bothered to properly remove-- both of them still partly clothed adds an extra layer to things, another dimension of texture to play with. ]

[He can't see her eyes, but she can see him perfectly. The way the rising sun brightens the edges of his silhouette, the way it makes strands of light of his hair, something transcendent and ephemeral and her fingers reach out to thread themselves through it, feeling lightness and the beginnings of warmth. She wonders if she could talk him into doing this again, out here. She wants to see the whole of him kissed by sunlight, bare and unencumbered.

It does not occur to her that this may be some exhibitionism, she's had sex underneath the open sky more times than she can be bothered to count, even if she tries to be discreet.

Her nipples stand pert with arousal and she gasps when he tweaks one. It makes her jerk and the movement only prompts a reminder to roll her hips further. ]

Y-you feel so...

[He moves harder when she makes him stronger, it's simply a product of the process, but it's delicious icing on an already rich, satisfying cake on its own merits: nice to have, not something needed. Not something he's ever needed. The smooth and languid rhythm of his hips feels like the waves rolling by them, and the familiarity makes it easier for her to lose herself in it. Her toes curl and there is a slight crunch as they dig into the sand.]

[ He can't see her eyes, but he can see the rest of her-- strands of hair splayed into the sand, her mouth slightly open as she gasps. The blindfold adds an air of mystery to her. Do her eyes slide shut in pleasure as she writhes against him? Or does she stare up, wide-eyed and seeing through the material far more easily than the reverse? The thought teases at the edges of his thoughts, tantalizing.

He loves a good mystery. ]

I feel so...?

[ He echoes the words back at her, his voice a heavy mixture of curiousity, amusement, and lust. He knows she enjoys their encounters-- no less than he does-- but he likes to hear it. Goddess knows his ego doesn't need it but it feels great anyway.

He's picking up his pace in increments, a little harder and faster with each thrust inside of her. His thumb brushes against the nipple he'd tweaked, raised and demanding his attention. And Crow is more than happy to oblige it, rubbing it in slow circles. He really does love her breasts, they're great breasts. ]

[She is slowly coming to terms with how she needs, and her desire is no less than the other day when he thrust into her again and again so hard she thought the wall would break. It was raw, then, it was desperate, it was unabashed and bold and overtook her senses.

But she likes this, too. Her lust is no less intense it simply takes a different shape. She does not let it cascade over her overwhelmingly, but sharpens it. It's how she can feel, keenly, how he grows faster with every stroke and she marvels and appreciates his timing and sense of subtlety. So versatile. 80H slowly licks her lips and exhales, feeling heat build up inside her and needing to vent it.

She shudders as his thumb circles her and she whimpers lightly. It's exciting and mildly embarrassing to see such obvious peaks in the fabric and her face warms for it. Clothes are meant to hide the body's shame and yet here she is, technically--a generous take on the definition--still dressed, and yet her "shame" could not be more apparent than if she'd been well and truly naked.]

Much too amazing for your own good.

[She tries, minutely, not to sound too affected by him and does not succeed at all, but her words are clipped with her effort. It only makes the breathiness behind her words far more apparent.

She could not care less.]

[ He understands very well what it's like for your desire to take on many shapes. This time, his is a slow but intense build... the desire to feel, to touch. To experience. Being inside her feels amazing-- she's warm and wet and tight and every stroke inside her is like electricity. His hips roll and undulate as he thrusts into her. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. ]

I could say the same for you.

[ He lowers his head to whisper the words into her ear, his voice soft and low. ]

You feel-- [ Faster. Harder. Harder. ] --so damned good.

[ He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust inside of her, timing it so he starts nibbling on her neck at the exact moment he's buried himself deepest inside of her. ]

[She does not breathe when he starts to whisper. They are often so soft and fragile that she does not want to disrupt a single word. It surprises her that he could be capable of something so soft when everything else he's doing decidedly isn't.

It's a pleasant conundrum, only adds to the thrill that travels up her spine alongside the feel of his words, his breath. She suspects he likes being this way. Contrary. Unpredictable. Surprising. Whatever the case, it's fine enough. The words make her arch first--she's always been susceptible to whispers--and the pace of his hips follow very, very closely behind. She rewards him with his name, once again.

Her blood does not pound--it can't--but it thrums harder than usual and she gasps, nearly sings it when those teeth--those clever teeth that are the centre of so many teasing grins--nip at her neck.

Once, twice she whimpers, low in her throat behind closed lips and her legs find themselves at home around his waist. They often do, of late, but it's necessary. She's growing closer and she needs something to hang onto. It isn't that she doesn't want to be swept away she simply doesn't--]

Edited 2019-04-06 06:30 (UTC)

[ He loves the feeling of her shapely legs wrapping themselves firmly around his waist-- he knows it's a sign she's close, she's almost there. He just needs to push her a little farther and she'll fall down, down, down into that pleasant abyss. Very few things are more complimentary than the sensations of a partner coming completely undone thanks to his own actions.

She'd be right that he likes being unpredictable-- loves it, craves it. It's fine if people think they can guess him-- his thoughts, his actions... But he'd rather surprise people. Not just in sex, to be sure (but also most definitely then... he certainly loves the little gasps she makes, the whimpers and moans he draws out of her when he catches her off-guard.) Being predictable is boring, and Crow would like to think he's anything but.

He's growing closer as well, close enough that his eyes slide shut as he pumps faster and faster inside of her. He's not kidding when he tells her how good she feels. The pressure is building up sweetly inside him, hot and pleasant. Crow's going to fall off that edge himself, but he's determined to bring her down with him. ]

[It is a challenge to keep her eyes open when so many things work against her. His hips, his strength, her growing pleasure. It would be too easy to let it all overwhelm and carry her away, and she has more than half a mind to let it, whining with both the building heat and strain of her effort.

But she wants to see.

Truth be told, most times, she seldom believes she has anything to do with what happens. Even as her own hips rock in time with his, even as she tightens around him, desperate and not wanting to lose him before the end. Even as she moves and he reacts, cause and effect in its purest form, she denies, denies, denies. She is a catalyst, a witness, a mirror, she helps and she shows the best self a partner has to offer back to themselves, but she doesn't have anything to do with it.

She is just lucky to see it.

So through trembling lashes that could bat hurricanes, she watches. Flushed skin, beads of sweat, a rushed pace, the searing breaths of effort. It's all so honest. It is not anathema to her as one might expect; she does not hate honesty, it is simply the one luxury she could never afford even with all her family's wealth.

One thrust hits her where she needs it just right and she does not fall off with him.

She jumps, hand-in-hand, excited for the drop and suddenly there is no sand at her back. Just wind and light, the salt burning her nose as she cries out his name, shaky, but resonant. She's trembling but does not fight it, she's holding onto him it's fine it's good it's marvellous and she feels so hot--]

--Ahh!

[ There it is-- there it is. It's the way her legs tighten around him, the way his name tumbles from her lips, the way she trembles with her pleasure that pushes him over. Her name spills from his lips like the highest of praise as his movements slow, as the pleasure cascades over him in waves. It's a single perfect moment in an uncertain world, and he lets the bliss carry him away.

He doesn't move to climb off of her as he comes down from it, instead choosing to nibble a little more on her neck even as he's softening inside of her. She's going to have another hickey, as if he didn't give her enough of those during their encounters.

Eh. If she had a problem with it, she'd say something.

He's slowly becoming aware of sand creeping into his clothes, his hair, his hands. He'll have to move soon, to straighten himself up and get back to business. But for a moment, he's just enjoying the feeling of coming down from a pretty fantastic orgasm. ]

[She hums pleasantly as he nibbles on her neck before she realises that she should pretend to be mad about it.]

If you insist on doing that, this will not end at one.

[It probably would not, with the entire day ahead of them, but you know, her needs may grow to be more immediate.

Still, if nothing else, feeling him grow soft inside her is strangely pleasant. She can be happy for his satisfaction if nothing else. And it's nice. She can feel it better, but she has grown to enjoy--and envy--feeling his heartbeat. Hers was cast away and she abided by its removal when she realised, but there is nothing more obviously indicative of and tied to life as a beating heart and the presence of his is a visceral reminder of what she is lacking.

And yet, she cannot bear--no, that is too strong, she enjoys listening to his.

Her fingers lightly toy with his hair and she tries to find a rhythm in the timing of his breaths and the sea.]

[ He hums lightly at her words, his eyes still closed as her fingers dance along his scalp, lightly tangling with his hair. Crow has half a mind to keep nibbling, to continue on with her. But--

But there's a trial still going on, and as much fun as this is... he does want to win. So it's with no small amount of reluctance that he pulls away from her neck and rolls off of her. He doesn't go very far, still lying next to her and staring up at the sky. ]

As much fun as that sounds...

[ He lets his voice trail off. She probably knows how that thought ends. ]

[Ah.

There were warmth and weight and then there was nothing. It takes her a moment to settle and adjust. And then another. But she manages.

She definitely knows where that thought ends. She doesn't even disagree with it. She knows she will steel herself enough to focus on the task and do her best, it's as plain as the freshly risen sun on the horizon.

She just...wants to wait a moment or two before that happens. It should be fine. She does not have to remove limbs or organs, does not have to fight for her life or snuff out others, there are no elevators to rise and fall on twisted whims and cruel arbitration.

She just has to talk to people.

Which is almost worst, in some ways, but she can...do this with Crow, at least. He's driven, after all. It's fine.]

I am not human.

[A concession, a compromise to herself; she will resume play, but she does not want to move just yet.

It's her secret. Perhaps a poor one--surely he's suspected by now? He isn't an idiot. At any rate, it's out of order, but so are some of the things they've done or have yet to do (kissing is several squares ahead and they've neatly squared--pardon the pun--that one away.

Perhaps "neat" is generous.)]

[ It takes him a hazy moment to parse what she's saying. It's-- a secret, or so he assumes. Well, they'd thrown their neat order straight to hell when they started having sex. Might as well skip around more, right? Hell, he prefers it. Crow has never been one for "neat" and "orderly," in the end.

"Not human," huh...? ]

I'd wondered about that.

[ So: She's right, he'd suspected. ]

What are you, then?

[What are you, then?

Not enough.

But she bites down that instinctive reply. What is she...that has become so complicated over time, but she will say what's simplest.]

An android. A mechanical being.

[ "Not enough" wouldn't be a proper answer anyway!

The term "android" is unfamiliar to him, but she follows it up with the "mechanical being" comment and he gets it a little better. He whistles, impressed. ]

I wouldn't have guessed that. You don't look mechanical at all. Or feel it, for that matter.

[Implying she cares!!!]

An android, in my particular case, is a mechanical being of higher cognitive function created in human likeness.

[That's the point, basically. Though typically, she should not still have certain parts but that seems pointless to mention.]

[ If she thinks Crow wouldn't become more annoying with a bullshit answer, she'd be wrong. But she can find that out another time perhaps. ]

Heh. They did a damned good job of that.

[ Why can a robot fuck? Was she a sexbot? ....Is it rude to ask someone if they're a sex robot? More importantly, does he care if it's rude? ]

So can most androids have sex?

[ "No, he does not care" is apparently the answer to that last question. ]

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deep philosophies with crow

he is totes philosophical

fucking socrates of boobs right here

and don't you forget it

what a good talk

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