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No.102
- ユーザ「名無し」の投稿だけを見る (※時系列順で見る)
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“I don’t want to see you with boys, Diane. I don’t share well. If you’re with me, you’re mine.” he murmurs, and she shudders under the weight of his voice.
a scene from a R18 fanfic from the skilled and kind aspareme, #ironcrown - verse. fic below.
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Because bad ideas are best shared with good company…Absolute filth below the cut, which is funny because nobody even gets naked. You have been warned.I don’t own any of this, and am infinitely grateful to @notkrad for letting me write awful things with her awesome characters. Thanks for sharing the sandbox!
Heads up: generalized power-play
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“We must be careful, little miss, or we’ll be caught. You have to be so quiet, Diane. So… so quiet. Will you do precisely what I tell you to, Diane, exactly when I tell you to do it?”
His gloved hand cradles her chin; the joint of his thumb bends at the delicate bone of her jaw, and her head is tilted up to accommodate it. It isn’t comfortable. She couldn’t care less, because his lips are at her ear, and his voice is saying the things she’s only dared dream of.
She knows she’s probably being played; nobody wants nothing from her, and she’s been told that bad boys only want one thing from pretty girls. With her mousy brown hair she’s more pigeon than peacock and she knows it, so it’s not like he’s after her for her looks.
And he isn’t a bad boy, anyways.
Captain Hardin is a man — a dangerous man — and she knows he’s killed people. She doesn’t know if they were all on Father’s orders, either. It ought to disgust her. It will one day. But for now all she wants is for him to keep doing…
Whatever it is he’s doing to her pulse.
It thuds in her ears, a mortal instrument. She wonders if he’s close enough to see it at her throat.
“Yes”, she whispers, and the grip tightens a little.
“I thought I told you to be quiet, Diane.”
He drawls her name into her ear, and she can’t help but let a little moan escape. They’re tucked away into an empty office that’s fallen into disuse. It’s dark here, and it’s got a heavy door; she knows they can’t be heard over the music coming down the hallway.
But Hardin sounds serious. His grip on her jaw certainly is.
She shivers helplessly in his grasp, but doesn’t apologies. She’s got to be quiet. He told her so, and she’s always been told to trust her security detail implicitly.
“There’s my little miss”, he purrs, and the shivers turn into quakes trembling down her thighs. Pinned apart as she is, Diane knows he can feel her tremble. Her back is to the door, and her legs are forced wide over his thigh; her wrists are pinned above her head by one of his hands, and she is altogether helpless. The ballgown’s skirts are bunched around her hips, and she’s so aroused it almost hurts to think.
She knows she ought to feel bad about it, but doesn’t. She’ll worry about it later, because —
“You were bold the last time, little miss, and it was charming. I enjoy an ingenue, especially the sort that come crawling through my window at night.” He gives her a cold once-over, as though assessing something he was considering purchasing. Searching for flaws, maybe, or otherwise cataloguing points of interest. He stares at her, and she feels… bared.
Diane’s wearing three layers and he makes her feel naked.
She realizes to her absolute horror that she’s wet at the same time that he lifts his leg. The muscle bunches under the black trousers of his formal dress uniform, and she lifts precariously up on to her toes.
Her legs have fallen open, and now she must rest her full weight onto his thigh. She bites her lip against the cry that wants to escape. She feels the heat of his leg through her silk knickers, and knows she’s making a mess.
She’s mortified, cheeks flushing and eyes prickling with sudden tears — even as Hardin makes a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat.
“There there, little miss. Shh, that’s enough. No need for these”, he murmurs, thumbing away an errant droplet. “I’ve got you, Diane. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll make sure we’re not discovered, little miss. All you have to do is trust me, absolutely. Can you do that? Will you do that for me?”
Pinned as she is, she can only nod.
She knows it’s a bad idea even as she does it.
It won’t stop her, though. She wants him. Strong, commanding… and his voice can be so warm with pride, approval, interest.
Hardin cares… or can fake it convincingly. She can’t make up her mind which, and it clearly doesn’t matter. He’s here with her now, and she’s pragmatic enough to take what she can get.
It isn’t her brain calling the shots today anyways.
“Very good, little miss. Now, here are the rules. You will obey them to the letter, and they are non-negotiable. If you are well-behaved, this… can continue. If you are disobedient, it stops immediately. Do you understand? You tell no-one, and you follow the rules.”
She thinks of her father, of his growing collection of empty bottles and conspiracy theories. Diane isn’t delighted at the idea of him finding out that she and Hardin have… anticipated something that might not happen in the first place. It’s not like she doesn’t know why princesses are valuable, but she resolves to be selfish and steal a little something of her own.
She nods.
Hardin smiles, but his eyes stay cold. They look like chips of February skies, when the blue is clear and lethal. She has trouble holding his gaze, and drops hers after a second or two. With her chin held up as it is, it’s a subtle submission. He sees it nevertheless, and she’s rewarded with a stroke of his thumb up the blade of her jaw to her chin and back up. The slide of silk against her skin is decadent, and she likes it more than she should.
“I don’t want to see you with boys, Diane. I don’t share well. If you’re with me, you’re mine”, he murmurs, and she shudders under the weight of his voice. He sounds possessive, and she wants to be wanted back.
She nods, and he continues.
“And I love an ingenue as much as the next man, but if we’re to do this, I’ll be calling the shots. No more climbing through windows unannounced, little miss. I’ll let you know the nights you can come. When it’s safe for you to come.”
She flushes with dull mortification; she really had managed to get into his room, and had made rather a mess of her confession. But the kiss he’d given her had been worth it, even if she’d been deliriously happy and sickeningly anxious by turns the rest of the night.
You’re beautiful, you know”, he murmurs, and she feels her cheeks burn again. She’s never been called beautiful until him, and she’s discovering that she quite enjoys it.
“Tawny, as many shades as a mountain cat; you make it hard for me to control myself. I’ll never put you — us — at risk, little miss, but I like to hunt. Do you understand?” His hand gentles on her jawline, but his eyes don’t soften.
He’s always seemed capable of reading her like an open book, but she’s never felt flayed open like this before. He knows her worst impulses, sees what she tries to hide as though she’d painted it orange.
And he’s still here, with her.
So she does trust him, and nods. She knows that even now, she mustn’t make a sound. He must be pleased by that, because he shifts the hand holding her jaw down to the place where his thigh meets… her.
“Good. Then I’ll take what’s mine when inclination and opportunity strike. Any objections, little miss?”
The way she’s straddling him stretches the silk over her mound. His longest finger strokes over the damp fabric, tracing every rounded contour with a marksman’s precision. It’s the first time anyone’s touched her like this, and she can’t help it. She moans.
His eyes narrow, and that is the only indication he gives her before he snaps his thigh up. She’s truly on tiptoe now. She rides his thigh, hips squirming for purchase and finding only a keen and wild darkness of sensation.
Hardin’s small moue of disappointment makes her want to cry. She didn’t mean it. She doesn’t want him to go, so she shuts her mouth and lowers her eyes. He must know she’s contrite, because he keeps stroking her through the silk, until she’s flushed and panting silently for air.
“You’ll learn, little miss. You’ll learn. But what am I to do with you until you do, hm? And when I asked you so nicely, too. Your punishment, little miss…” he pauses, considering, until his eyes light with something hungry.
His thigh disappears at the same time as his hand.
She lands flat on her feet all of a sudden, and wobbles. Now released from the pressure, the heat between her legs throbs. She can feel her pulse with every thud, a strange ache that makes her skin feel too tight around the edges.
“Your underwear, Diane”, he orders, and it is an order. He’s even got his hand out; his face is dark with promise and something that looks darker than lust and more intense than desire. She trembles under his gaze, and helpless — unwilling — to resist, she does as she’s told.
When she hands them over with a trembling hand, she is mortified to see how wet they are. She can smell iodine and something organic, a richness and tang, like seaweed and brine. She realizes with a start that it’s her, and her cheeks flame.
He tucks the fabric into the inside breast pocket of his suit, and Diane realizes she’s not getting them back any time soon.
Hardin smiles, and brings his lips to her ear. “Until I give you these back, Diane… you don’t get to wear any. To make sure you remember, hmm, little miss?”
She is helpless to resist. She’ll give him whatever he wants to have him to herself. It’s reckless, and dangerous, but she wants to hear him call her sweet things again, wants to see that look of lust, of haughty assessment and cruel intentions.
She ought to hate it, but can’t deny the effect it has on her. She wants him to make her feel, even if it’s not right or good or smart.
Diane nods, barely capable of sucking in a breath.
“Good girl”, Hardin drawls against the soft skin of her jaw, at the tender place where it meets her ear, and Diane shudders once, hard, and feels her inner thighs go slick.
She sags against the doorway, blown as a deer chased by wolves, and he watches her with the same predatory interest. It’s not like she’s unaware of the picture she makes; tousled and rumpled and well-used, for all that he barely touched her.
She feels her lack of undergarments acutely.
“We should return, little miss, or you’ll be asked after. I’ll leave first; you clean yourself up and follow when you’re ready. If we’re challenged — you felt self-conscious and retreated for some privacy. I noticed you missing and went after you. Do you understand?”
Though their assignation is clearly over, she finds it hard to speak. She nods instead, and a smile blooms on his face. This time when he cradles her jaw, his hand is gentle.
“There’s my little miss.” She feels lighter than air, and knows she’s got a stupid dreamy smile on her face. He steps around her, hand on the door knob, and then pauses. She shifts closer to him, aching for another taste of him. His gaze rakes over her, head to toes and back. She likes the way he looks at her, the quiet way he wears command.
“Oh, and Diane?” His hand cups between her thighs, a firm and possessive grip. He doesn’t ask permission; she doesn’t exactly mind. She does, however, stay quiet.
“The next time, I want you bare.” The thought of tender, bare flesh is so shockingly arousing that her breath catches.
He meets her gaze and the cruel slash of his mouth widens into something almost warm. “Enjoy the party, little miss”, he whispers into her ear, and slips out of the room before she can do anything else. Alone in the dark room, she sucks in a whooping breath, and lets it out through her teeth in a sibilant hiss.
“Holy shit.”COLLAPSE