Ye Olde S33k & Finde


She watched him set the book back down on the shelf--an instinct in her coached her to reach for it, but her hand slowly fell back down to her side. She peered at it a moment longer, blinked and realized what he had said to her.

"Oh... the... grimoire..." She responded absently; her eyes flitting back to his, she watched as he devoured her body in silence, the blush slowly coming back to her cheeks. She wanted to cover herself up, but instead just stood their, shoulders slightly slumped; perhaps not the most attractive posture in the world. She wondered a moment what was going through his head as he appraised her.

When he faced her she took a small step forward and tentatively ran her index finger down the back of his hand. She bit her lip and kept her eyes down, on his chest as she did this.

There was something else she was looking for. Him. She'd missed him in her absence. Very much. Which was probably a strange thing, seeing that they didn't know each other very well--and certainly not in the ways one would avidly miss another.

She grabbed his hand, gently raised it to her cheek and held it there, closing her eyes.

"I... dont know..." She whispered shyly. The touch of their skin sent a shiver up her spine, and she trembled. Why was she whispering, exactly? This wasn't a library. She smiled a little as she held his hand against her warm, flush cheek.
 
The tentative motions, the blush slowly flooding her cheeks, all familiar from a previous encounter, another sensation of deja vu.

His fingers curled slightly, cradling her face. With her eyes closed, she would only be able to sense his approach by the sudden feeling of warmth moving closer. Their lips met in the briefest of embraces, but that was enough to send a tingle down his forearms, bristling the hairs there as though charged with static. The book had a reaction of its own, a spark of blue energy flitting over the sigil on the cover.

Another meeting of their mouths, more firmly, a lingering thereafter. He felt the curl of his smile even as he pressed closer to her for third kiss.
 

Her hand slowly left his, as he cradled her face, and ran down the length of his forearm, resting there as he kissed her the first time.

When the second kiss hit, she gripped where she held and took a step closer so their bodies contact was more eminent. She let out a soft sigh between the second and third kiss, reaching up with both hands to firmly press her hands against his chest. It wasn't in protest, she was very much enjoying what she was receiving--more, she wished to channel her energies into him, and perhaps gain some in return.

Her eyes opened slightly after the third kiss, and she pulled away, allowing her fingertips to trail downward from his chest until they reached their natural position at her sides. She searched his face for some sort of answer to a question she didn't even particularly know. She bit her lip, giggled nervously and clasped her hands together in front of her, swaying. The sensations and wants and needs had built quite a bit in her with those intimate moments. She glanced down at her feet then sheepishly raised her eyes to meet his again.
 
His eyes followed her, meeting hers unerringly when they eventually returned to his gaze. He continued to smile, though he was still aware of her nervousness.

"Too much?"

Even as he said it, he knew it was untrue. Still, with her timidity it was best to pause before he did overstep the boundary of her comfort. The hand on her cheek moved as his other did, taking up residence on her shoulders. Gentle yet firm, much like the look his eyes held.

The book crackled again; this time the spark leapt from it to another book, energizing it for an instant before dissipating into the dim light of the aisle.
 

"No..." She whispered. "I... uhm... really..."

The spark from the book caught her attention, she watched it leap from book to book, opened her mouth as if to comment on it, then shrugged it off.

She reached her left hand up to run her fingertips over the skin on his forearm, over and over and over again, with the lightest of touches. She began chewing on her lip again, peering at his lips as she did so.

Her sentence was lost--somewhere in her mind she had the idea to kiss him, to show him rather than tell him that she was quite content with what was happening--and that she wanted more.

"Is... there..." her blush grew deeper on her cheeks, starting to reach toward her ears and slight on her chest. "...somewhere... more... private..."

She giggled at herself for saying it. More private than what? She was certain she was the only one in here, other than him, at the moment, and even if she wasn't, there were so many aisles and nooks and crannys to peruse that whoever'd never find them here, anyway.
 
"This area is deep enough into the center of the shop that no one would likely stumble upon it...but I do know of a more...secluded section nearby."

His smile remained intact, his fingers drifting down to her hands and guiding her gently away from the shelf full of books. The sigil-marked tome sparked once more, as if lamenting its chance to have been claimed.

This new section was arranged in a close circle, hiding a comfortable sitting area. Two chairs and a short couch, arrayed with reading tables decorated with ornate lamps. The books on the shelves were all reference material; encyclopedias and atlases, journals on nature and science and a myriad other subjects. He stepped through the narrow space between two of the surrounding shelves, leading her through as well.

"Here we are. Much more private."

The thought of the book flashed through his mind. He'd have to go back for it at some point. But for now there were more...pressing matters...to attend to.
 

She followed in silence, grasping his hand tightly as he walked her through the shop. As they made their way through the space between the two shelves she gently let his hand go.

She darted to the couch, stared at it, she began rubbing her own forearm as nerves began to sink in.

She turned and looked at him, grinning awkwardly as she hugged herself.

"I... Haven't..." she giggled, reached up to adjust her hair. "... done anything in a while..." she glanced back at the couch, cleared her throat, and swayed in place.

"What if I'm terrible," she mumbled nearly inaudibly. "I... never really..." She bit her lip, laughed again.

"I'm ruining the moment, aren't i?" she mumbled, taking a couple steps back until her calf hit the couch. She sat down, taking her jacket off and placing it on the arm of the couch. She crossed her legs and squirmed a little, adjusting any wrinkles in her shirt and looked back up to him. She reached her arms out, invitingly, as if she wanted a hug, or perhaps another kiss.
 
"To be honest, it's been a while for me as well."

He strode over to the couch and leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to her lips. His hands rested naturally on her crossed legs, fingers flexing momentarily.

The warmth of her blush was radiating more and more with each passing second. His own hands were warm, even warmer than her thighs.

When he finally pulled back he answered her question.

"Not at all."
 

The goofy grin took her face when he admitted to not having any sort of intimacy in a while. She wasn't sure why--but it amused her, he was far too handsome to not have ladies throwing themselves at him.

She eagerly watched as he strode to her, sitting up straighter so that when their lips met they met with a greater force than before; her arms fell naturally so that she could clasp the small of his neck as they kissed. His touch on her thighs sent a tremble through her and it felt as though her body had awakened; her senses heightened, the baby fine hairs on her forearms and neck prickled with goosebumps.

She giggled as he answered her question, as if it were an afterthought and let her arms fall back down as he pulled away, though as they fell they landed gently on his hands, which she ran her fingertips gently over his knuckles to hold the sides of his palms and squeeze.

Though the blush was still glued to her face, ears, and chest, her eyes flickered with a hint of deviancy. She bit her lip momentarily and quirked a sexy little coy smile, dragging one of his hands up a little higher on her thigh. She made sure her eyes were locked with his at this point, never wavering, blinking, looking away; hoping it'd be enough to be clear of her silent desires.
 
His fingers moved beyond the destination her hand has brought them to. Their stare was smoldering; fortunately for him his vision was not needed to follow the curve of her hip and the softness of her side. His other hand drifted higher, curling around the back of her neck, fingertips combing through her hair and gripping firmly.

Along her side, the material of her shirt bunched up in the wake of his touch. A moment of brazenness guided his hand to cup the supple mound of her breast, fingers clenching and unclenching, drifting downward over her stomach, toying with the clincher belt at her waist before dragging over the same thigh he'd begun with.

Rather than continue whilst bent over her, his hand hooked behind her knee. The hand in her hair guided her around as he sat on the couch, depositing her in his lap. He grinned up at her, running his hand up the back of her thigh until he was palming her buttock. He gave it a nice squeeze as well, leaving his hand there afterward.
 

A small gasp escaped her lips as he palmed her breast, she moved her hand to cover her mouth in a shy manner--as she often did when any sort of noise left her. She was unusually sensitive--probably because of the lack of stimulation that had left her wanting-wanting-wanting nearly every day. She allowed her hand to fall into her lap again as he began playing with her clincher belt--she looked down and watched him fumble with it, giggling.

As he maneuvered her, she blushed a little--silently impressed with his strength; she peered into his eyes as he grabbed her bottom. Another giggle escaped her, she bit her lip tentatively, then grabbed either side of his face, kissing him gently. She pulled away and exhaled, rocking lightly on his lap, allowing her hands to fall to his shoulders. She leaned in and rested her forehead on his, eyes closed, and ran her hand down his chest.

She adjusted, then, a part of her that she hardly showed anyone began to blossom and she kissed him, firmly, teasingly claiming his bottom lip, mildly, between her teeth and pulling; she released his lip. Another kiss, just as firm, playfully flicking her tongue against the lip she had bitten; she grinded against him softly as she did this, her heart pounding. She pulled away slightly--allowing their lips to be inches apart. She searched his face, wondering, that sexy little smile curling her lips.
 
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Her shyness lapsed into coyness, which was a pleasant surprise. The hand on her backside squeezed yet again, adding an extra pressure to the friction of their hips. The fingers tangled in her locks drifted free and moved down her back, pulling her closer. The crush of her bosom against his chest was a welcome weight.

Their lips remained a breath apart for a few moments, if only so he could enjoy her sultry grin. Before long his craving for the softness of them was too much and he pressed forward to kiss her again. His hips rocked with hers as they ground against him. His jeans were definitely feeling too snug, but the taste of her lips and tongue were more important; each clash of lips met with a teasing tongue-tip or a firm nibble. A battle of teasing that would surely come to a head...eventually.
 

Kiss after kiss was planted against his lips, the intensity and variety of the kisses differed as she continued on. She eventually stopped altogether, wondering where his weak spots were. She leaned in a little closer to kiss his neck, bite, blow, lick. She smiled against his skin as she kissed again for good measure.

How about his ear? She trailed her soft, tiny kisses up the length of his neck, gently nibbling on his earlobe to see if it roused any sounds from him. Her hips stopped moving as she did this, and she trailed her hand down his chest, lower, stomach, lower; she teasingly brushed against the zipper of his jeans, downward towards herself. She did this over and over again, up, then down, leaning away from his ear and watching his face--biting her lip. There was a fire in her eyes, a desperate need. Her mind reeled and she allowed the silence, the potency of the moment to consume her. She licked her lips and stilled her hand, allowing it to rest where it lie. That smile came back. She wanted him to seize her. Make her. Break her. The idea of her splayed on the couch as he had his way with her body made her tremble. That familiar ache presented itself in her. She wiggled slightly, allowed her hand to reach up, catching the hem of her own shirt. Her other hand followed the movement, and she pulled her shirt off, throwing it off to the side.

Her bra was crimson with black lace accents. It was one of those fancy bras that pushed the girls up and made her form a little more attractive to the admiring eye. She seized the hand on her back and directed it to her left breast, kissing him again as she did this, moving her hips to find friction and heighten that ache growing with each passing moment.
 
Her brassiere matched her shirt, which made him smile in spite of himself. Before he could think on that much longer she was kissing him again, pulling his hand to her chest. His fingers curled instinctively, kneading and squeezing the fleshy mound.

The fire of passion was intense between them. He could feel her hips moving with a need that he had yet to satisfy. His own hunger was growing exponentially, the desire for flesh to flesh contact, to taste more than her lips.

His hands found the clasp of her bra, undoing the clasp after a few fumbles, fingers raking around her sides, removing the lacy material. He cast it aside and reached for his own shirt, pulling it up and off to be discarded in the pile. Both hands cupped her breasts, enjoying the weight and plushness of them. His eyes flicked from her face down to her bosom, his head inclining, warm breaths puffing over her skin.

The first lap of his tongue across her nipple was electric. Soft kisses followed, circling outward until he could make his way from left to right, working inward until a mirrored slithering of his tongue made its way over the tightening bud.
 

She let off a soft little sound as he grabbed her breast, turning her face slightly away from his lips long enough to bite her finger. The action of her hips didn't cease.

When he took off her bra that familiar shyness returned, she almost went to cover herself, but instead allowed him access; her eyes devoured him as he took of his shirt, a hand pressed against the center of his chest and she found that, his heart, too, was pounding. This made her smile. As he cupped her bosom she, again, withdrew her hand from him and reached it up to her mouth, biting down on the side of her index finger. She closed her eyes as she felt his hot breath come closer and closer to the newly exposed skin.

Another soft sound--almost like a sigh--she reached to grab his shoulders, digging her short nails into his skin slightly as he teased her nipples. Goosebumps prickled from her chest downward, she tilted her head back slightly, biting her lip rather hard. She was so caught up in the moment that she stopped moving her bottom half--trembles fell down her body; a sharp inhale.

"Gods," she whispered in a shallow, breathy tone.
 
As much as he enjoyed the weight of her body in his lap, the strain of his manhood against the layers of cloth that still separated it from the radiant heat of her core was becoming a frustration. He turned, shifting his hips and depositing her on the couch, head resting against the arm of it. His eyes roamed down from her chest to her stomach and spied the buckle of her belt, undoing it and slipping it free, fingers drifting to the button and zipper of her jeans. His eyes kept returning to hers, watching for too much of that shyness to shine through. Desire was what he found instead. A silent insistence, hoping for more without having the power to ask. So he continued, fingers curling into the waistband of her jeans and tugging them downward, shimmying them to her knees and lifting her legs to pull them the rest of the way off.

The black denim crumpled with the rest of their forgotten clothing, his hands now free to roam the back of her legs, caressing the firmness of her calves and thighs before letting them splay out to either side of him. Leaning forward he stole another litany of kisses, placing a few errant ones along her collarbones. Just enough room remained on the couch's seat that he could scoot away from her, bending at the waist to trail his lips and tongue down her centerline, following her sternum onto her stomach and then veering off to her right hip.
 

As he shifted her from his lap to the couch a part of her seized up. She watched him take her in as he discovered his next agenda. This was perhaps the most awkward time for her, that she could recall, being intimate with someone. When her legs were exposed to him, her instinct was to cross her them--too embarrassed by the imperfections of her body. But the hunger building in her was far too much to act shy now. She suggested it, she wanted it, she wanted it for quite some time, and damn it, she was going to make sure to see it through.

When his fingers touched the back of her knees, as he ran his hands up the length of her legs, she let out another little sigh, tilting her head back. For some reason, in moments like this, a lot of her 'tickle' spots transformed into stimulation spots. Goosebumps immediately formed on her thighs, down, and up. When he spread her legs to fit between them she arched her back slightly, allowing the little black lacy fabric covering the last unexposed part of her to press against his clothed, engorged member.

She squirmed as he worshiped every part of her exposed skin. The aching need of completion was beginning to take its toll on her. She wanted him. Now. Whatever way he saw fit. Whatever he wanted, she'd surely do. She reached her hand downward, towards him when he finally paused his kisses; when her full extended reach did not find what she sought she sat up slightly, which made him straighten his posture. Perfect. She ran her hand gently along the protuberance, imagining what lay beneath. She licked her lips and concentrated a moment, fumbling with the button of his pants, the zipper. It was her turn to discover something, her turn to make him just and hot and bothered as she was.

She kissed just below his belly button as she fiddled with his pants, running a semi-confident hand over and over her new distraction. Another kiss, a bit lower. She finally managed to get his resistant trousers to cooperate with her. Pulling them down, down, down. She stopped at his knees--assuming he'd take it from there (the position he was in, of course, would make it difficult for her to do so herself). She ran a single finger down the length of his manhood, over his boxers, her cheeks blushing again. She looked up at him, as if expecting some sort of command. Grab it? Expose it? Suck it? It had been far too long, and she wasn't sure what he liked, how he liked it, etcetera. Part of her wanted him to guide her hand the way he enjoyed it, then she'd allow herself to let go and do what ever else she knew how to do (relatively well), but the other part, the dormant part, wanted to explore and figure it out on her own.
 
Her combination of eagerness and apprehension was both endearing and frustrating. He was also torn; between gentle guidance and a...less kind approach. He settled for a slow progression, perhaps an opportunity for the latter would present itself, but for now her cautious motions required a softer touch.

The fingers of one hand brushed through her hair while the other worked at removing his boxers, ending up leaving them around mid-thigh. Her hands were now free to feel the heated length of his member skin to skin. The look in his eyes was a silent urging, a beckoning for her to reach out, to explore the rigid prize before her. When he found the right words, they were a simple instruction.

"Show me what you can do..."
 

She watched as he moved his boxers. Her expression didn't change but she felt her cheeks growing hotter, she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She glanced up at him, from it, and bit her lip.


"Show me what you can do..."


That's all she needed to hear. She adjusted her position, curling her legs beneath her, kneeling, leaning. She grasped his manhood with a shaking hand, slowly stroking, up the length, down the length. With her free hand, she moved her hair to her left shoulder, leaning down further, tilting her head. She looked up at him one more time before tracing the tip of her tongue against the tip of his member. Her lips encircled the tip, she sucked gently, she kept stroking. Lips tightened as she began sucking a little harder, slowly taking the length of him into her mouth, her hand rested at the base, then. She took everything into her mouth, closing her eyes, slowly pulling away. Her gag reflex never bothered her. Over and over she unhurriedly took his length in her mouth, bobbing her head in a gentle rhythm. She paused a moment to lick the tip again, teasingly rolling her tongue around it as she began stroking him again. She looked back up at him, winked, and continued the charade.
 
His eyes devoured the sight of her as she devoured the length of him. His hips twitched as she reached his base, the pressing warmth of her mouth sending shivers down his spine. He busied his hands with keeping her hair out of the way and caressing her cheeks, toying with the edges of her ears in hopes of finding a possible sensitive spot.

The wink she gave him made him wonder just how much of her shyness was a ploy, or if perhaps simply the act of having started this dance had stripped it away. Either way, the sensations brought wave after wave of enjoyment. Despite this, his mind wandered to darker places and his body reacted in subtle ways.

His hips rocked just a bit harder as she stroked and filled her mouth with his shaft. His fingers in her hair grasped and guided her bobbing rhythm into a more rapid pace. Before long, the wet sounds of her lips gliding over him and the squelching of her throat's limit being prodded by his tip became audible. The noises brought a lusty grin to his face.

"That's a good girl..."
 

Her cheeks were red and radiating warmth as she continued the movements, as he grabbed her hair and directed her pace to quicken. She stared at him the entire time, her eyes pleading any sort of response from him.

When he touched her ears and cheeks whilst endeavoring to keep the hair out of her face, tingles ran down the base of her neck, down her back, and goosebumps began to form on her shoulders and arms and slightly on her chest. The stimulation, while stimulating was a glorious change--she was used to people using her without any sort of repayment.


"That's a good girl..."


She'd smile, if she could; grin an awkward grin. She kept going, did as he bid with coaxing movements. Her hand remained at the base of his member, but the other one moved to his hip, nails dragging gently down his leg. Anything to rouse a moan, a breath, something to catch him off guard. She blinked slowly, varying her suction, light to strong as she took in his length, over and over.
 
Subtle variances, steady motions, soft sounds, and sudden scratching at his hip. All efforts well rewarded with a groan of pleasure, rumbling in his throat like gravel under tires. The more she went, the more he ached; he craved another wet tightness. The difficulty was in deciding how to take her. She seemed eager enough, but eagerness often gave way in the presence of discomfort. Only one way appeared sufficient.

His hands gripped her hair firmly but not harshly, tugging her back until his length popped free of her suction, an audible noise that brought a quick grin to his lips. He guided her up and back, reclining against the arm of the chair. Once there he loosed her locks and let his fingertips glide down her sides, positioning her legs just far enough apart that he could shift his posture. His eyes never left hers, smoldering with desire in an almost palpable way. Sure digits traced her panties' waistband, following the fabric down along her mound, gently moving it aside to bare her sex to his intentions. His stiffened member prodded at her entrance, his hips rolling just enough to apply pressure. There was a moment of resistance, a tensing in both of them. Then nothing but the delicious sheathing of his manhood inside her welcoming folds. A sharp exhale signaled the enjoyment he received from that single motion.
 
Scribbled on a piece of parchment, found discarded on the floor.

And maybe, just maybe...I'll burn myself in effigy and drift off as smoky tendrils of what once was and may yet be. Maybe, just maybe...I'll dive deep into the ocean and never even try to resurface. Maybe, just maybe...I'll fly higher than Icarus and make my mark upon the mountains. Maybe, just maybe I've got the stuff to work through all the stress and frustration...but maybe I'm just crazy.

Maybe I'm just crazy.
 
Found scribbled on a piece of parchment on a side table.

The library of my mind is cold and dark and dingy, coated in the dust of long ago. Each book is cracked and fading, spines broken by the rigid rigor of time's flow. And though each aisle is volumes deep and that depth is profoundly inspiring, not a single patron's left to show. The library of my mind is shattered, scarred and simply...it's a shadow of its former glory. Each text is wracked with feeling, spines weary from the bitter bite of better days. And though each shelf is full to bursting, not a single word's worth dispersing, save two: The End.
 
It's been a while since words have flowed but now I'm feeling like Bacchus with an ever-full cup. I don't know what the focus is, but I know that motivation is enough. So here my fingers fly like doves across the keys that are my digital ink, leaving traces of thought and writ and woe and lust and love and all the things between. I think perhaps my veins are only so capable of pumping out the ichor of my imagination, leaving me in depths of depression and dissolution til I can piece myself back together. So even though the mood for writing's struck, it will not last forever.
 
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