i wish my heart was fine-tuned and ready to go
Title: I Can Handle It
Author/Artist: electriclaugh @ corniner
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/a whore
Rating: M
Warnings: coarse language, pwp sort of sex
antonio/marie [spain/a whore]
Fingers twisting into her hair, dark like his except she’s pale like Francis, as this girl’s head bobs, back and forth, shallow and deep when he asks for it. But she’s a little sloppy. Instead, Antonio just fucks her mouth, bucking, feeling the back of her young throat. There’s a little noise, gargled, and blocked. Until something just about rises and he pulls out of her mouth, cheeks hollowed, with a--pop! Pre-cum spreading across the edge of her lips and her cheeks and her chin. It’s all a little messy. Sloppy.
(But that’s not what he paid for.) “Sorry, Marie.”
Breathing labored, swallowing whatever the hell is left in her mouth. And if by instinct, because she seems to have little experience, Marie bends back, legs spread, propped up on her elbows. “Come ‘ere, big boy,” and she only says it because it’s her job.
But there’s no need to say it twice.
Slow, precise, but still decisively, Antonio moves into her. Legs resting on his shoulders. Very thin legs, not yet womanly, curved flesh that draws eyes just with the raise of a skirt. And she screams, because it hurts a little.
Everything stops.
Collapses.
And he pulls out of her, fast. He cares. At least a little bit. He has a heart.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Does this no matter how much he loves the tightness, the pressure building, escalating like if he was flying. Even though he sees a spot of blood. That’s what he paid for after all. “You sure?”
“Stop caring. I can handle it, fuck.”
“Sorry, no--you’re just a girl.” He looks down, though she doesn’t need to look to know she’s bleeding. Not that she wants to.
Then why are you doing it? “I--” Marie shoots back, quick little snake.
“You are.” And the tips of his fingers push into still-developing flesh and curves. Small, swelling breasts. The tip of his cock pushing in again. But he’s still so careful. He still doesn’t trust her.
Jerks his hips forward, angled up, poised and ready to strike. Bucks like any good bull would and he knows that much at the very least, and he thinks it’s strange to be thinking like that right now. He just watches Marie’s face closer, eyes shut tight, mouth open enough to breathe, but closed more than anything, red gathering over her skin. It’s obvious against the white. Just how like blood is obvious against snow, he thinks and that too he thinks is strange.
Her lips are red now, blooming, because she bites them trying to keep some of the sound in. This time, though, she doesn’t really scream anymore, she just moans for him because that’s what it takes to get the job done. A high sort of sound, unnatural between their breathing, her nails digging into Antonio’s sides. Tighter, tighter until it’s as if she’s holding on for dear life when she comes.
Antonio’s movements are more erratic now, less smooth, with less finesse. Still moving inside of her, although she’s more of a tangle of limbs, muscles spent and used. He comes too, groaning. Low and deep in his chest, like someone ripped out one of his organs with their bare hands.
Afterwards, he cleans her face up, pressing a handkerchief to his tongue and then to her face. “I don’t need your help.”
“Well, you need this. That’s why you’re doing this, right?” Pays her for the services.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, you should hate me.” And Antonio grins still. Do you know what I took from you, he thinks.
“I know.”
“Good, I hope you know, otherwise I’d be lying.”
“You probably still are.” And she pauses, adding in, “I’m just saying.”
“Probably.” And she smiles as she finishes pulling on her tights, slipping back into her pumps, bright shine on the black. Takes the cash and leaves.
yes, i like writing country/whore, it's something i've been craving as of late and you'll see another probably. haha.
Author/Artist: electriclaugh @ corniner
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/a whore
Rating: M
Warnings: coarse language, pwp sort of sex
antonio/marie [spain/a whore]
Fingers twisting into her hair, dark like his except she’s pale like Francis, as this girl’s head bobs, back and forth, shallow and deep when he asks for it. But she’s a little sloppy. Instead, Antonio just fucks her mouth, bucking, feeling the back of her young throat. There’s a little noise, gargled, and blocked. Until something just about rises and he pulls out of her mouth, cheeks hollowed, with a--pop! Pre-cum spreading across the edge of her lips and her cheeks and her chin. It’s all a little messy. Sloppy.
(But that’s not what he paid for.) “Sorry, Marie.”
Breathing labored, swallowing whatever the hell is left in her mouth. And if by instinct, because she seems to have little experience, Marie bends back, legs spread, propped up on her elbows. “Come ‘ere, big boy,” and she only says it because it’s her job.
But there’s no need to say it twice.
Slow, precise, but still decisively, Antonio moves into her. Legs resting on his shoulders. Very thin legs, not yet womanly, curved flesh that draws eyes just with the raise of a skirt. And she screams, because it hurts a little.
Everything stops.
Collapses.
And he pulls out of her, fast. He cares. At least a little bit. He has a heart.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Does this no matter how much he loves the tightness, the pressure building, escalating like if he was flying. Even though he sees a spot of blood. That’s what he paid for after all. “You sure?”
“Stop caring. I can handle it, fuck.”
“Sorry, no--you’re just a girl.” He looks down, though she doesn’t need to look to know she’s bleeding. Not that she wants to.
Then why are you doing it? “I--” Marie shoots back, quick little snake.
“You are.” And the tips of his fingers push into still-developing flesh and curves. Small, swelling breasts. The tip of his cock pushing in again. But he’s still so careful. He still doesn’t trust her.
Jerks his hips forward, angled up, poised and ready to strike. Bucks like any good bull would and he knows that much at the very least, and he thinks it’s strange to be thinking like that right now. He just watches Marie’s face closer, eyes shut tight, mouth open enough to breathe, but closed more than anything, red gathering over her skin. It’s obvious against the white. Just how like blood is obvious against snow, he thinks and that too he thinks is strange.
Her lips are red now, blooming, because she bites them trying to keep some of the sound in. This time, though, she doesn’t really scream anymore, she just moans for him because that’s what it takes to get the job done. A high sort of sound, unnatural between their breathing, her nails digging into Antonio’s sides. Tighter, tighter until it’s as if she’s holding on for dear life when she comes.
Antonio’s movements are more erratic now, less smooth, with less finesse. Still moving inside of her, although she’s more of a tangle of limbs, muscles spent and used. He comes too, groaning. Low and deep in his chest, like someone ripped out one of his organs with their bare hands.
Afterwards, he cleans her face up, pressing a handkerchief to his tongue and then to her face. “I don’t need your help.”
“Well, you need this. That’s why you’re doing this, right?” Pays her for the services.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, you should hate me.” And Antonio grins still. Do you know what I took from you, he thinks.
“I know.”
“Good, I hope you know, otherwise I’d be lying.”
“You probably still are.” And she pauses, adding in, “I’m just saying.”
“Probably.” And she smiles as she finishes pulling on her tights, slipping back into her pumps, bright shine on the black. Takes the cash and leaves.
yes, i like writing country/whore, it's something i've been craving as of late and you'll see another probably. haha.