It starts with the feel of his hands running over her body - not touching skin, not yet, but in the way of dreams she knows that will happen soon enough - as they kiss. He's cruel, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth and biting harshly at her lip in one kiss, pulling back again and again to make her chase his mouth and capture it herself for the next. And suddenly she's been spun around and shoved against the wall with a force that drives the air from her lungs. She growls and tries to push herself away, but he pins her there with his body, one leg pressing between hers as he bites and sucks at her neck.
His hands make quick work of her shirt and bra, and then his mouth - and his teeth, dear gods, he's biting so hard - are travelling down until he earns a sharp cry from her at the bite he delivers to her nipple. With a snarl, she goes to shove at his chest, but those long fingers catch her wrists and shove them against the wall, over her head. His head doesn't even leave her breasts, and now it's the other nipple he attacks, and she doesn't know if she's squirming against him from desire or her angry need to free herself and prove she's not such easy prey for him.
"Behave, Vivvy~" His normal teasing lilt is there, but it's tempered by how he almost growls the words against her flesh. Transferring both wrists to one grip - and she hates how easily he can hold her that way, even as she arches her back in an attempt to push away from the wall - his other snakes down her front. There's no pause to tease or tweak a nipple; he slides his long fingers into her jeans, into her underwear, and she feels them slide between her folds.
Now his lips are next to her ear. "Oh, Vivvy~" he begins, and again, in the way of dreams, she knows what he intends to do. Though the thought of it makes her wetter still, even in dreams her pride is too strong. Rather than wait for him to make her admit what she wants, she steals the initiative.
She sinks her teeth into the curve of his neck before snarling her demand from between clenched teeth: "Shut up and just fuck me already!" Her hips buck forward against those fingers, trying to get friction against her clit, and then her wrists are free and the hand is gone from between her legs, and why he's chosen to undo her jeans instead of his own pants so that she has to reach over to do it for him, she doesn't know. There's a moment where their arms seems to tangle, and they're fumbling to remove this basic clothing and fumbling to make the other's hands move out of the way and fumbling to be the first to bare skin and touch, and somehow it brings to mind every hurried, frantic adolescent fuck and that feeling of things not quite forbidden but all the sweeter for the disapproval of them.
He yanks her jeans down, taking her underwear with them, and she's barely managed to shake one leg free of the denim before he's pushing his own pants down, grabbing her hips, lifting her, finding her entrance, and thrusting into her all in one swift movement.
And that's what he does, not giving her a moment to get used to the feel of his cock buried inside her, but pushing her back against the wall again and starting to pound into her with a force that sends her hips banging against the wall with each thrust. She manages, barely, to bring her legs up enough to wrap around him, but she's panting to hard and he's moving too quickly and too roughly to give her much chance to find a position that grants her any security. She's at his mercy, upright only because of the wall behind her.
Each thrust comes so hard and fast, goes so deep, it's like it's driving the air from her lungs over and over again. She would moan, except that requires breath and she has none, she's just panting as his hips roll against her and his cock, slick from how dripping wet she is, fills her again and again.
She can hear the slap of flesh against flesh, hear his own panted breaths, and she digs her nails into his shoulders and drags, determined that she won't be the only one to walk away from this sore and marked. His response is to dig his fingers into her hips - there'll be bruises there - and fuck her so hard the impact of his hips into hers is actually painful. She loves it, and claws at his back until it's more red scratches than pale flesh.
He's close; she can feel the way his cock twitches inside her, and she reaches between them to start rubbing furiously at her clit. The delicious friction makes her gasp, and he hears it. One of his hands finds her breast, and he begins massaging it roughly. There's no way they'll find this together; but when he groans her name against her ear and she feels his cock pulsing and then that new wetness, she's close enough that she thinks they might possibly have done so after all.
His fingers shove hers aside, and they're deft and skilled as they quickly push her over the edge, making her curse and groan his name and cry out loudly as she bucks and writhes with his softening cock still inside her. To his credit, he doesn't let her fall - and the orgasm is mind blowing.
That's where she wakes: half-slumped against the wall, the possibility of his quick recovery and another vigorous round of furious, rough fucking in the near future, the knowledge that they could go at that for hours, taunting and pushing each other. The ache in her clit is overwhelming, and she stares at the ceiling and silently curses the man who can somehow infuriate and frustrate her without even being there.
