hannah_chapter1: (Calm)
Title: Hungry Like the Wolf
Author: hannah_chapter
Summary: I'm on the hunt, I'm after you.
Pairing: Belldom
Rating: 18/NC-17
Feedback: Hit me.
Disclaimer: Not real. I don't own Muse or the songs of Duran Duran.

It's tonight, it has to be tonight.

I've been watching you for weeks. Longing for you. Aching for you. There's a hunger deep inside me, a hunger only you can satisfy.

You're on the far side of the bar, talking to a stranger. You charm him, you smile for him, laugh at his jokes - or pretend to. But when he tries to buy you a drink, you refuse him.

He lumbers off, face dark as thunder and I take this as my cue to approach. You see me coming and you smile and lean back on your stool, putting yourself on display. You're dressed all in red tonight: red silk shirt and tight red trousers. These clothes cling lovingly to a body I've become obsessed with, a body I'd sell my soul to see in all its full, naked glory.

You pat the empty stool beside you and I don't have to be told twice. I tell you my name, you tell me yours. I offer you a drink and, this time, you accept. We sit and drink and talk of everything and nothing and, all the while, your thigh brushes against mine and, when I look in your eyes, I see my own desire reflected back at me.

I finish my drink and ask you to dance. You push your glass away, take my hand and let me lead you to the dance floor. A slow set starts and you waste no time, looping your arms around my neck and pressing against me. I can feel you, the heat burning at the very core of you. I ask if you're bare beneath your trousers - it certainly feels that way to me - and you laugh and tell me you are. I call you a slut and you laugh again and agree. Yes, you say, such a slut - a slut for me. Only for me.

The slow set ends but we stay where we are, holding each other, not wanting to let go.

I ask if I can buy you another drink and you say no.

I ask if I can take you back to my place and fuck you, hard and rough, all night long, and you say yes.

In a taxi, side by side, my hand in your lap, teasing you through your trousers. You want more than just my light touch and you thrust up in an attempt to make me move my hand. But I turn my face away and stare out the window, ignoring your soft, desperate sounds. It's not for you to dictate the pace.

I lead you into my flat, into my bedroom. I pin you to the wall and you moan and thrust against me as I devour you. My tongue in your mouth, yours in mine, it's so good - no, better than good. Perfect. Divine. But it's still not enough.

I guide you over to the bed. I need to see you, need to feel your bare flesh against mine. The buttons on your shirt conspire against me, actively resist me. I growl, frustrated, I have no time for this. I take hold of the silky fabric and tear the offending garment right off your body. You squeal and slap my arm, call me a savage. You're not fooling anyone, you know. You like it rough and we both know it. You certainly don't protest when I push you onto the bed and do the same thing to your trousers.

You. Naked. In my bed. I've dreamed about this moment, longed for it and I now I find it's better than I ever could have imagined. Your beauty exceeds my wildest dreams.

I take the very tip of you in my mouth and you sigh. I suck you, but only for a few precious moments. You taste divine and I would so dearly love to spend a night with my head between your legs, tasting you, teasing you, bringing you to the very brink of ecstasy, again and again and again.

But not now. We both want more, need more tonight. I get up and tear my own clothes off. Then every part of me is touching every part of you. We kiss and kiss and kiss as our raw, rigid cocks grind together.

You grab my head and force me lower. I hear your voice, tight with need, begging, pleading. You want me to bite you, mark you as mine and I'm happy to oblige. My mouth moves over your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of red-purple bruises that form the first initial of my name. I take a moment to admire my handiwork before turning my attention to more pressing matters.

A long, low wail issues from your lips as I sink my cock into your tight little hole. I take both your hands , bring them up over your head and hold them there. You wrap your legs around my waist, forcing me deeper inside you. We stare into each others eyes for a long moment. Then we take the ride of our lives.

I lick your throat, your Adam's apple. I taste the salty-sweet sweat, the very essence of you as I fuck you fast and rough, just the way you like it. You jerk your wrists out of my grip and rake your nails down my back, drawing blood. The pain is a spur, urging me to go harder, faster, deeper. And then it happens: you shriek, your back arches and I feel your seed, hot and thick and wet, on my stomach.

I halt my movements, wait until you've ridden out last waves of your pleasure. Then I start to fuck you again. Because I'm not done with you, not even close to being done with you. We lick and bite at each others lips as I move, lost to you, lost in you.

Your cock is stirring again, half-hard again when I lose control, surrender myself to my own pleasure. We separate for the briefest of moments and then I gather you to me. We curl into each other, a sticky, contented ball.

When I wake you're worshipping me, peppering my chest with soft, sweet kisses. We go again, you're on top this time. I hold your hips, my nails digging into your skin as you move. You're the one on top but I set the pace. I take you slow this time, watching the expression on your face change with every thrust. At my command you begin to touch yourself, milking yourself in time with my thrusts.

It ends, as all good things must, and you lie in my arms, humming softly. You ask if we can do it all again and I say yes.

Because I haven't had my fill of you yet.

I'm still hungry for you.


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August 2016

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