[fic] see you again.
Title: See You Again
Fandom: Umineko no Naku Koro ni
Pairing: Ange x Amakusa (others implied)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Amakusa is a different type of furniture.
Notes: Originally posted to the kink meme; decided to post it elsewhere when it became a bit more than smut
Amakusa thinks he knows her. He's wrong. He's never even seen her smile.
--Ange retracts that statement. Maybe he saw it once, when he walked in on her talking with Mammon and the sisters and Sakutarou and Onee-chan, and Asmodeus was sitting on his head squealing about how handsome he was and he couldn't tell, and he had the stupidest look on his face--
But he doesn't know her, anyway. He doesn't know the first thing about her. So it really pisses her off when he pretends he does. It pisses her off so much she thinks she could cry.
--"Miss," he's saying. "I'm not sure this is what you really want."
"Shut up, Amakusa." She shifts in his lap so she can feel him through his pants, and yes, he's growing hard, just as she expected. Amakusa is just a man, after all, and if that weren't enough he's also a filthy lecher type of man, so he'll definitely do this with her, no matter what he says. This is what he gets, anyway. He thinks he can flirt with her whenever he wants, but when she takes the initiative suddenly he loses his guts. Cheap talk is all he is. How the hell would he know what she wants, anyway?
"Miss," he repeats, and there's an edge to his tone that she's never heard before. Either he's this stupid jovial flirty type without a care in the world, or he's trying to be all philosophical and wise for her, but he's never seemed angry to her, so this is new. She ignores it, though. She unzips him and takes it out. She's never seen one up close before-- never had the opportunity to-- and it's not actually hard, it feels fragile and very, very hot.
Amakusa's breathing has sped up, his face is flushed, but he's still looking at her like she's doing something bad to him. Why? "Miss, are you planning to die on Rokkenjima?"
Hurk. That was unexpected. Ange's absentminded stroking falters a little. She cocks her head to the side, but her expression is no different from usual: stoic. Unfeeling. The exact opposite of Amakusa, you see? Finally, Ange answers. "No, I'm not. And what business of yours would it be, if I was? You're just a hired hand, Amakusa."
Amakusa is laughing, wondering if Ange actually thinks that this is how most people treat their 'hired hands'. "Miss Ange, if you die, that'll be really hard on me, won't it? I don't want to get close to a girl who I'll never see again, see? Using me just because you don't want to die a virgin-- you're not being fair."
Saying something like that, on top of using her first name like he has the right-- Amakusa really is an idiot. But Ange knows just what to do with him. "Who said anything about 'getting close'?" She gets to her knees, puts her mouth over the head. She's a little surprised that it doesn't taste strange-- doesn't taste different from any other part of the body. Amakusa, then, is a man with surprisingly good hygiene. She gives it a little lick and then leans back and looks into her bodyguard's eyes, matter-of-fact as always. "You're my servant, right? So you'll be paid for this."
Ange wants to giggle because she almost called him her 'furniture' from force of habit. She licks her lips, curls her fingers around the base, kisses it. Amakusa throws his head back and she hears a deep, rumbling chuckle. He suddenly was downgraded from a top-ranking mercenary to some sort of high-class male prostitute, but if you want the truth, he doesn't mind all that much. Men will be men, after all, and it's that common man in him that open his mouth wide and moans when she takes him all the way in.
...Shush, Amakusa. Sakutarou will hear. Ange can't say that, though; he'll think she's crazy, and besides, she's now got a mouthful of cock in the way, so she can't say much of anything at all. Amakusa, for the ladies' man he's supposed to be, is losing control a little too much. He's trying to... fuck her mouth. Well, she'll show him. She's taking charge here, not him. She deliberately grazes her teeth against his cock, and he actually whimpers. Whimpers! That sound makes Ange's blood boil.
He doesn't look ashamed, though, just smirks down at her, lust in his eyes. The dog. She frowns and pushes him from the seat down to the ground with her. She climbs on top of him again, and kisses him. It's her first kiss, and their lips touch for only a second before his tongue darts past her lips and he's kissing her so hungrily, being so active now, raising his hands to paw at her breasts-- it's almost a surprise, but a welcome one. She groans into this kiss, moves her hips against him, back and forth she can feel him, so close against her panties. His hands move around back and she gasps as she feels his fingers against her-- there-- rubbing against her and slipping inside, she, she's going crazy, she's b-been reducing this whining moaning thing, and she... wants him. She wants it. In her. Now.
She rolls her panties down and she sees him below her, his mouth wide open, gawking like an idiot again... she laughs at him, because he's even drooling a little. But it all feels so good, because he wants her so bad he's salivating, like she's a meal that he wants to--
Oh! Ahh, so maybe he really did want to eat her, just not in the literal sense. It's surprising, the way he leans forward and starts licking her, and she's a little put off because she doesn't know if she'll like it, but she finds out soon that it feels good, wonderful, he must have done this a million times before hes'ssogood. She can feel his fingers, his tongue, she doesn't know up from down or magic from reality, she's holding him by his hair and pushing into him and her voice has risen so many octaves...
It's too good, she has to do it, she knocks his head away and moves back and steadies herself above his cock. She looks down at him again and he's a complete mess, with his hat gone somewhere and his hair strewn around, silvery, all ruffled, and his eyes so fixed on her with some sort of admiration, but his mouth twisted somehow into a smirk. Deriding her even now. "Go slowly, virgin girl. Don't hurt yourself."
Of course she won't, she's not an idiot. He's the one who would hurt her, so she has to take charge like this. She steadies herself with a hand on his muscled stomach and lowers herself down gently, and she doesn't know which one of them gasps. Yes, it hurts. But she's alright; she's in control. She quivers and stays still with him inside her, while Amakusa breathes harsh, like he has a fever, and she stays until it feels natural, until she feels he's a part of her. Then she's able to sink all the way down, and there he reaches out and holds her until she doesn't shudder. She feels a little proud for taking the whole thing, but it's obvious that Amakusa needs her to keep going or he might die and she doesn't want that, so she lifts herself up and slides back down, and each time she feels so amazing, so full--
And Amakusa, for his part, feels almost like a voyeur, watching Ange pleasure herself with his body. Yes, she's using him as a toy, and he supposes he should feel degraded for that, but rather he's transfixed at the sight of this cynical cold girl letting go of everything that made her so miserable, now lustful, tossing her head back and just using him like that. Well, maybe he's happy, deep down, that he could give her this pleasure, even if it's something this small.
If he's smiling at her, though, Ange doesn't notice. She seems to be off in her own world, her eyes practically glazed over in arousal, rolling her hips so smoothly and taking him in over and over again until her mouth is wide open and she's panting, losing control of herself, little moans not quite able to leave her lips-- "Ahh, ah, I'm going to, I'm..."
In those last moments she leans forward and wraps her arms around him and he can feel her clenching around him, so unbearably tight, it's ridiculous, it's so intense that he almost misses the lips her words are forming as he cums inside her--
"Onii-chan, Onii-chan, ahh, please, Onii-chan..."
So he feels strange in those last moments, sort of sad for this girl who he'll never really know. Still, she stays there on top of him, with him inside her, and he'd never move if she didn't want him to. They cool off together, until their hold on each other relaxes, and Ange comes back to herself, and stands up, turns away. Intending to leave him there in a heap on the ground.
Amakusa sits up, half-naked and exhausted, and grins at the girl's back. "Miss? That 'Onii-chan' stuff will cost you extra, you know."
She stops for a second, and then keeps walking. Amakusa doesn't get to see her smile, and he doesn't get to see her cry, either.
Fandom: Umineko no Naku Koro ni
Pairing: Ange x Amakusa (others implied)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Amakusa is a different type of furniture.
Notes: Originally posted to the kink meme; decided to post it elsewhere when it became a bit more than smut
Amakusa thinks he knows her. He's wrong. He's never even seen her smile.
--Ange retracts that statement. Maybe he saw it once, when he walked in on her talking with Mammon and the sisters and Sakutarou and Onee-chan, and Asmodeus was sitting on his head squealing about how handsome he was and he couldn't tell, and he had the stupidest look on his face--
But he doesn't know her, anyway. He doesn't know the first thing about her. So it really pisses her off when he pretends he does. It pisses her off so much she thinks she could cry.
--"Miss," he's saying. "I'm not sure this is what you really want."
"Shut up, Amakusa." She shifts in his lap so she can feel him through his pants, and yes, he's growing hard, just as she expected. Amakusa is just a man, after all, and if that weren't enough he's also a filthy lecher type of man, so he'll definitely do this with her, no matter what he says. This is what he gets, anyway. He thinks he can flirt with her whenever he wants, but when she takes the initiative suddenly he loses his guts. Cheap talk is all he is. How the hell would he know what she wants, anyway?
"Miss," he repeats, and there's an edge to his tone that she's never heard before. Either he's this stupid jovial flirty type without a care in the world, or he's trying to be all philosophical and wise for her, but he's never seemed angry to her, so this is new. She ignores it, though. She unzips him and takes it out. She's never seen one up close before-- never had the opportunity to-- and it's not actually hard, it feels fragile and very, very hot.
Amakusa's breathing has sped up, his face is flushed, but he's still looking at her like she's doing something bad to him. Why? "Miss, are you planning to die on Rokkenjima?"
Hurk. That was unexpected. Ange's absentminded stroking falters a little. She cocks her head to the side, but her expression is no different from usual: stoic. Unfeeling. The exact opposite of Amakusa, you see? Finally, Ange answers. "No, I'm not. And what business of yours would it be, if I was? You're just a hired hand, Amakusa."
Amakusa is laughing, wondering if Ange actually thinks that this is how most people treat their 'hired hands'. "Miss Ange, if you die, that'll be really hard on me, won't it? I don't want to get close to a girl who I'll never see again, see? Using me just because you don't want to die a virgin-- you're not being fair."
Saying something like that, on top of using her first name like he has the right-- Amakusa really is an idiot. But Ange knows just what to do with him. "Who said anything about 'getting close'?" She gets to her knees, puts her mouth over the head. She's a little surprised that it doesn't taste strange-- doesn't taste different from any other part of the body. Amakusa, then, is a man with surprisingly good hygiene. She gives it a little lick and then leans back and looks into her bodyguard's eyes, matter-of-fact as always. "You're my servant, right? So you'll be paid for this."
Ange wants to giggle because she almost called him her 'furniture' from force of habit. She licks her lips, curls her fingers around the base, kisses it. Amakusa throws his head back and she hears a deep, rumbling chuckle. He suddenly was downgraded from a top-ranking mercenary to some sort of high-class male prostitute, but if you want the truth, he doesn't mind all that much. Men will be men, after all, and it's that common man in him that open his mouth wide and moans when she takes him all the way in.
...Shush, Amakusa. Sakutarou will hear. Ange can't say that, though; he'll think she's crazy, and besides, she's now got a mouthful of cock in the way, so she can't say much of anything at all. Amakusa, for the ladies' man he's supposed to be, is losing control a little too much. He's trying to... fuck her mouth. Well, she'll show him. She's taking charge here, not him. She deliberately grazes her teeth against his cock, and he actually whimpers. Whimpers! That sound makes Ange's blood boil.
He doesn't look ashamed, though, just smirks down at her, lust in his eyes. The dog. She frowns and pushes him from the seat down to the ground with her. She climbs on top of him again, and kisses him. It's her first kiss, and their lips touch for only a second before his tongue darts past her lips and he's kissing her so hungrily, being so active now, raising his hands to paw at her breasts-- it's almost a surprise, but a welcome one. She groans into this kiss, moves her hips against him, back and forth she can feel him, so close against her panties. His hands move around back and she gasps as she feels his fingers against her-- there-- rubbing against her and slipping inside, she, she's going crazy, she's b-been reducing this whining moaning thing, and she... wants him. She wants it. In her. Now.
She rolls her panties down and she sees him below her, his mouth wide open, gawking like an idiot again... she laughs at him, because he's even drooling a little. But it all feels so good, because he wants her so bad he's salivating, like she's a meal that he wants to--
Oh! Ahh, so maybe he really did want to eat her, just not in the literal sense. It's surprising, the way he leans forward and starts licking her, and she's a little put off because she doesn't know if she'll like it, but she finds out soon that it feels good, wonderful, he must have done this a million times before hes'ssogood. She can feel his fingers, his tongue, she doesn't know up from down or magic from reality, she's holding him by his hair and pushing into him and her voice has risen so many octaves...
It's too good, she has to do it, she knocks his head away and moves back and steadies herself above his cock. She looks down at him again and he's a complete mess, with his hat gone somewhere and his hair strewn around, silvery, all ruffled, and his eyes so fixed on her with some sort of admiration, but his mouth twisted somehow into a smirk. Deriding her even now. "Go slowly, virgin girl. Don't hurt yourself."
Of course she won't, she's not an idiot. He's the one who would hurt her, so she has to take charge like this. She steadies herself with a hand on his muscled stomach and lowers herself down gently, and she doesn't know which one of them gasps. Yes, it hurts. But she's alright; she's in control. She quivers and stays still with him inside her, while Amakusa breathes harsh, like he has a fever, and she stays until it feels natural, until she feels he's a part of her. Then she's able to sink all the way down, and there he reaches out and holds her until she doesn't shudder. She feels a little proud for taking the whole thing, but it's obvious that Amakusa needs her to keep going or he might die and she doesn't want that, so she lifts herself up and slides back down, and each time she feels so amazing, so full--
And Amakusa, for his part, feels almost like a voyeur, watching Ange pleasure herself with his body. Yes, she's using him as a toy, and he supposes he should feel degraded for that, but rather he's transfixed at the sight of this cynical cold girl letting go of everything that made her so miserable, now lustful, tossing her head back and just using him like that. Well, maybe he's happy, deep down, that he could give her this pleasure, even if it's something this small.
If he's smiling at her, though, Ange doesn't notice. She seems to be off in her own world, her eyes practically glazed over in arousal, rolling her hips so smoothly and taking him in over and over again until her mouth is wide open and she's panting, losing control of herself, little moans not quite able to leave her lips-- "Ahh, ah, I'm going to, I'm..."
In those last moments she leans forward and wraps her arms around him and he can feel her clenching around him, so unbearably tight, it's ridiculous, it's so intense that he almost misses the lips her words are forming as he cums inside her--
"Onii-chan, Onii-chan, ahh, please, Onii-chan..."
So he feels strange in those last moments, sort of sad for this girl who he'll never really know. Still, she stays there on top of him, with him inside her, and he'd never move if she didn't want him to. They cool off together, until their hold on each other relaxes, and Ange comes back to herself, and stands up, turns away. Intending to leave him there in a heap on the ground.
Amakusa sits up, half-naked and exhausted, and grins at the girl's back. "Miss? That 'Onii-chan' stuff will cost you extra, you know."
She stops for a second, and then keeps walking. Amakusa doesn't get to see her smile, and he doesn't get to see her cry, either.