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Brief Encounter (2/3)
Oct. 19th, 2012 05:08 pmTitle: Brief Encounter (2/3)
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom.
Summary: Have you ever had sex with a complete stranger in a public place? Would you like to?
Rating: 18/NC-17
Feedback: Always happy to have it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, never did, never happened.
I look at the parcel on my doorstep. There's no postage mark or return address, but that doesn't matter. I know who sent it. I've been waiting for my phantom lover to make his move, and now he has. I take the box inside, open it and examine the contents. A Venetian half-mask, a date and time: tonight, at eight. Excitement blooms deep in my belly as I check my watch. That's less than seven hours away.
************************************************
I pull up outside a huge country house, the kind of place Agatha Christie writes about, where the upper classes gather to drink and dance and murder the night away. Light blazes from all the downstairs windows and I can hear music. I put my mask on and get out of the car.
The front door opens at my touch and I follow the music down a dimly-lit hall. I find myself in what I assume is a ballroom, it's too big to be anything else. It's full of masked men and women laughing, dancing and talking among themselves. Unsure of what to do, I stay on the edge of the crowd, hugging the wall and watching the dancers. Someone puts their hands on my shoulders - no, not just anyone, I'd know this touch anywhere. He turns me to face him and ... I still have no idea who he is.
His mask is the twin of mine and he's dressed head to toe in red silk, like something out of a fever dream by Poe. His cloak and hood cover his hair completely. He could be dark-haired, fair-haired or bald as an egg - I just can't tell. He takes my hand and leads me onto the dancefloor. We move in time with the music, staring at each other's masks. Our dance becomes more and more intense as he holds me tight and thrusts against me. My brain throws up a random fact I read or heard somewhere, something about how dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire.
I'm desperate for some kind of release, any kind of relief when he leads me off the dancefloor and out of the ballroom. I follow him up a long, winding staircase and into a bedroom. He switches on a lamp and stands at the head of the bed, looking at me. I want him to reach out and touch me, take control of me like he did the first time, but he does nothing. It falls to me to make the first move.
I take my mask off and let it fall to the floor. But that's not enough, so I take my clothes off. Naked, I stand before him, and my phantom lover is finally spurred into action. He steps forward, takes my hands in his and pushes me onto the bed. He stares at me and, even through the mask, I can see his eyes glitter as he sets every last inch of my body ablaze.
"Touch yourself."
It's an order, not a request. I take myself in hand and do as I'm told. I've never done this with someone watching and my first strokes are slow and unsure. But then I find my rhythm and my shyness evaporates. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation. The mattress dips as he joins me on the bed.
"Fingers."
I roll onto my side, coat the first three fingers of my free hand in saliva and reach back. One finger slides home, two, now they're all inside, moving deep within me, making me ready. I hear a moan and raise my head. His trousers are shoved down to his knees, one fist wrapped around his cock. He removes his hand, inviting me to admire the organ that's already given me so much pleasure. I lick my lips as my fingers slip out of my back passage and I roll onto my back.
"Come fuck me," he invites, and I hurry to comply.
I crawl to him, he sits up against the headboard and pulls me onto his lap. I want to tear his mask away and cover his face with kisses, but I don't quite dare. I feast on his neck instead, licking, kissing, biting ...
... and then he's grabbing my hips, lifting me and lowering me onto his cock. My mouth falls open in a silent scream as he buries himself in me, right to the hilt. He gives me a minute to adjust and, then holds my hips in an iron grip as he jackhammers into me.
This hard and rough fuck is the exact opposite of our first coupling. Boneless and out of control, I feel like a puppet - but not dangled from above, drilled from below. Hinges creak, I turn my head and see two figures in white maks in the doorway, watching us. I'm too far gone to be embarrassed, so I just tilt my head back and moan. They want a show, I'll give them a show.
My hands and feet are numb, all sensation concentrated on the place where we're connected. My climax comes upon me like a sudden storm, filling my mind with white light. I come all over his clothes, ruining them, but he doesn't seem to care as he grunts and pulses into me, hot and wet. I'm dimly aware of being lifted up and off his cock. I fall sideways in a half-swoon.
When I come back to myself the masked strangers are gone and my mystery man is sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me. He sighs heavily before standing and pulling his trousers back up. He gathers my clothes and watches me dress. When I'm done he places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me downstairs and out to my car. I get in, give him one last smile and drive off into the night.
Author: hannah_chapter
Pairing: Belldom.
Summary: Have you ever had sex with a complete stranger in a public place? Would you like to?
Rating: 18/NC-17
Feedback: Always happy to have it.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, never did, never happened.
I look at the parcel on my doorstep. There's no postage mark or return address, but that doesn't matter. I know who sent it. I've been waiting for my phantom lover to make his move, and now he has. I take the box inside, open it and examine the contents. A Venetian half-mask, a date and time: tonight, at eight. Excitement blooms deep in my belly as I check my watch. That's less than seven hours away.
************************************************
I pull up outside a huge country house, the kind of place Agatha Christie writes about, where the upper classes gather to drink and dance and murder the night away. Light blazes from all the downstairs windows and I can hear music. I put my mask on and get out of the car.
The front door opens at my touch and I follow the music down a dimly-lit hall. I find myself in what I assume is a ballroom, it's too big to be anything else. It's full of masked men and women laughing, dancing and talking among themselves. Unsure of what to do, I stay on the edge of the crowd, hugging the wall and watching the dancers. Someone puts their hands on my shoulders - no, not just anyone, I'd know this touch anywhere. He turns me to face him and ... I still have no idea who he is.
His mask is the twin of mine and he's dressed head to toe in red silk, like something out of a fever dream by Poe. His cloak and hood cover his hair completely. He could be dark-haired, fair-haired or bald as an egg - I just can't tell. He takes my hand and leads me onto the dancefloor. We move in time with the music, staring at each other's masks. Our dance becomes more and more intense as he holds me tight and thrusts against me. My brain throws up a random fact I read or heard somewhere, something about how dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire.
I'm desperate for some kind of release, any kind of relief when he leads me off the dancefloor and out of the ballroom. I follow him up a long, winding staircase and into a bedroom. He switches on a lamp and stands at the head of the bed, looking at me. I want him to reach out and touch me, take control of me like he did the first time, but he does nothing. It falls to me to make the first move.
I take my mask off and let it fall to the floor. But that's not enough, so I take my clothes off. Naked, I stand before him, and my phantom lover is finally spurred into action. He steps forward, takes my hands in his and pushes me onto the bed. He stares at me and, even through the mask, I can see his eyes glitter as he sets every last inch of my body ablaze.
"Touch yourself."
It's an order, not a request. I take myself in hand and do as I'm told. I've never done this with someone watching and my first strokes are slow and unsure. But then I find my rhythm and my shyness evaporates. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sensation. The mattress dips as he joins me on the bed.
"Fingers."
I roll onto my side, coat the first three fingers of my free hand in saliva and reach back. One finger slides home, two, now they're all inside, moving deep within me, making me ready. I hear a moan and raise my head. His trousers are shoved down to his knees, one fist wrapped around his cock. He removes his hand, inviting me to admire the organ that's already given me so much pleasure. I lick my lips as my fingers slip out of my back passage and I roll onto my back.
"Come fuck me," he invites, and I hurry to comply.
I crawl to him, he sits up against the headboard and pulls me onto his lap. I want to tear his mask away and cover his face with kisses, but I don't quite dare. I feast on his neck instead, licking, kissing, biting ...
... and then he's grabbing my hips, lifting me and lowering me onto his cock. My mouth falls open in a silent scream as he buries himself in me, right to the hilt. He gives me a minute to adjust and, then holds my hips in an iron grip as he jackhammers into me.
This hard and rough fuck is the exact opposite of our first coupling. Boneless and out of control, I feel like a puppet - but not dangled from above, drilled from below. Hinges creak, I turn my head and see two figures in white maks in the doorway, watching us. I'm too far gone to be embarrassed, so I just tilt my head back and moan. They want a show, I'll give them a show.
My hands and feet are numb, all sensation concentrated on the place where we're connected. My climax comes upon me like a sudden storm, filling my mind with white light. I come all over his clothes, ruining them, but he doesn't seem to care as he grunts and pulses into me, hot and wet. I'm dimly aware of being lifted up and off his cock. I fall sideways in a half-swoon.
When I come back to myself the masked strangers are gone and my mystery man is sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me. He sighs heavily before standing and pulling his trousers back up. He gathers my clothes and watches me dress. When I'm done he places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me downstairs and out to my car. I get in, give him one last smile and drive off into the night.
