Title: Tender Ministrations
Description: Dancing like a puppet for her love...
Warnings / Disclaimers: "Kim Possible" and all derivative characters are property of Disney. All activities described are physically possible. All original ideas are distributed under the CreativeCommons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License. For more information on the Creative Commons License, visit CreativeCommons.org.
Authors Note: She'd bleed to love her. All other works archived at The Utensil Drawer.
I am well and truly captured, my hands drawn tightly together, high above my head. I nearly moan at how exposed this position leaves me. My breasts are jutting out from my chest in an obscene display, demanding attention.
My captor rises from her seat across the room. A small smile twists her lip into a salacious smile. I gasp at the sudden bolt of heat that it casts through my body.
She walks slowly closer, her fingers twitching slightly. She reaches up and draws one finger down the front of my shirt. I shiver at the feel of a thin line of heat, tracing a line between my breasts and over my belly.
My shirt falls open as she draws her finger over it. I gasp at her control of her plasma. That was new. I thought she was just putting off a little bit of heat.
Softly touching fingers slide around my waist, holding me gently. Her body presses against mine as her full lips draw closer to my own. Hot puffs of her breath waft over my open mouth, cooling my moistened lips. A low whine threatens to erupt from my chest as the push of her breasts against me shifts so I can feel the hardened points of her nipples against me through her shirt.
Her fingertips scrape against my side, the nails just barely tracing a line. Its just enough to make my nerves stand on end and scream. I shift my body forward, trying to press against her, trying to feel all of her.
The chill wafting over my body makes me shiver almost as much as the light touch of her fingers over my thigh as she pulls away. She eyes me up and down, that same damn smirk as always curving her lips. God, I crave those lips. On my skin, on my mouth, teasing me with her tongue...I don't care how.
She reaches a hand out and skims it over the tight muscles of my stomach. The barest touch of her fingertips against my overheated skin and I am ready to scream. I bite my lip, a whimper escaping from me.
Her smirk deepens.
Sheer bullheadedness prevents me from arching up when her fingers trace further down, brushing lightly over where I need her. I ache for her touch, every breath a sweet torture.
Only she could do this me.
She pulls my attention back to her abruptly, her fingers impaling me deeply. I bite my lip again, hard, forcing my long moan to become a muffled groan of bone deep pleasure. I can feel myself rippling around her sudden invasion. Sweet mother of GOD, she feels good.
I don't realize I've closed my eyes until I feel my nipple encased in wet heat. Her tongue flicks over me, teasing me. I can't help but to arch my back into her, I need more, I need her to claim me, take me, make me hers.
Her fingers twitch slightly against my inner walls and I clench tightly around her. I can feel her smile at that.
She pulls away from me slightly, releasing my nipple. Her fingers shift within me, keeping me constantly aware of their prescence. I look at her, the raw hunger laying my expression bare.
She looks at me, somber in the pale moonlight that streaks into the room. Her hand, the one that isn't buried in me, moves up to rest on my waist. The touch of our skin burns me, branding my very soul.
Slowly, steadily, she leans in, her eyes dropping to my lips. Gently, reverently, she kisses me, the lips I crave moving against my own. Unbidden, my legs rise to wrap around her waist, deepening her penetration.
She grins against my lips before pulling her fingers from my depths. Before I can protest, she claims my mouth, thrusting her tongue into me. Her fingers dance along my folds, doused in my desire.
Her mouth moves against me, distracting me from her fingers. I am wild, nipping, kissing, sucking at her, until she thrusts back into me. The steady sliding of her into my depths is enough to make me break the kiss, throwing my head back and breaking my self imposed muting.
Her kisses dance along my face and neck, sharp teeth tracing along the tendons and hidden veins. I tighten my legs, pulling her closer to me, forcing her fingers further into me. I can feel her grin, and echo it, moaning low in my throat.
She pulls out of me once more, further dousing her fingers.
She's going to-
OH MY GOD.
I whimper as she pushes into me. The fullness is too much, I can't possibly take any more. She's going to tear me apart and I'm going to love every second of it.
She rains her kisses over my face, delicate brushings of those tempting lips against my skin. Her fingers are steadily thrusting into me now, their rhythm helped by our position.
Her teeth dig into my neck and my muscles convulse, pulling her completely into me. Her thumb slides over my distended clit and I nearly crack my jaw from the effort of keeping my screams silent.
She's laughing against me and forcibly pulls herself from me. When I feel her again, fear dances along my nerves, making the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
Slowly, she pushes into me, larger than I ever thought I could manage, forcing me to take as much as she gives me. Spread obscenely for her, I can only whimper and whine incoherently at the pressure, her progress impossible to stop.
I can't take anymore, she's going to tear me apart, oh god, I'm going to die from the pleasure...
And then she's inside me. I can't believe what my body is telling me and I have to look down, moaning deeply at the sight of her buried to the wrist within me.
She shifts within me, expanding and twisting, wringing my pleasure from the depths of my soul. Her hand, her body, her soul, I can't tell the difference anymore, she's so close to me I can't tell where I end. I pray it never ends.
I'm writhing on her hand, I know I am. Coherent thought has deserted me and I don't know if I can survive much more of this.
A flashbang of sensation washes over me and I'm floating, held to the earth only by her touch on my body. The screams I dimly realize as coming from me are muffled by the mouth that is pressed over mine. Sensation turns my world red, and I am limp against her, my pleasure wrung from my body, turning me inside out.
I eventually return to myself, my lover laying her head against my shoulder and crying, helpless sobs wracking her body. I press a kiss against her rapidly cooling temple.
If things were different, I could hold her.
If things were different, I could tell her how I dream of being with her.
If things were different...I could love her.