if ur not writing smut for ur friend's oc's birthdays what are u doing with ur life? productive things? disgusting. i'm built different
Elke rubs herself across Confick's thigh, rolls her hips until the angle is right to grind her clit against it. She shudders, detaching her mouth from where she was sucking a bruise into Confick's neck to moan against her skin instead. Her hand on Confick's cunt falters, fingers sliding off her clit.
If Elke was in her position, she'd probably whine in frustration, make some kind of sound at the very least—but Confick stays silent as ever. Even when Elke's fingers find her clit again, she doesn't so much as twitch.
Elke pulls away from Confick's neck with a sigh, sitting upright on her thigh. To no surprise, Confick's face is blank—but is a little flushed. That's something, at least.
She moves her fingers lower, slides them through Confick's wet folds before dipping the tip of her finger into her hole. Her insides are soft and warm, her walls fluttering.
"Did you already come?" Elke asks, smiling wryly when Confick nods. Typical—Elke couldn't tell at all.
"Then," she removes her hand and grinds down on Confick's leg again, "do you mind helping me out a little?"
Confick sighs, put-upon. She moves her leg, pushes back against Elke's grinding just the tiniest bit. It's not enough—not nearly—but it's more than Elke was expecting. Seems she caught Confick in a giving mood.
Elke decides to push her luck. "Actually, can you lie on your side?"
Confick's expression doesn't change, but somehow Elke can still tell she's being judged. "You're sitting on my leg."
With a huff, Elke lifts herself onto her knees. She's fully prepared for Confick to continue lying flat on her back, but to her surprise she actually does as she's asked and rolls onto her side. Her knee nearly catches Elke in the ribs; she just barely manages to catch her leg in time to avoid getting hit, shifting it to rest on her shoulder.
Elke shuffles forward on her knees until her cunt is hovering right over Confick's. She looks at her face; it's blank as ever.
"This is okay, right?"
"Do whatever," Confick says. It's the standard response; she'll let Elke do whatever she wants, as long as what she wants doesn't involve any work on Confick's part.
How funny. She acts like she's doing Elke a favor—and she is, but at the same time…
It's not like Confick's not getting anything out of it, either.
Elke lowers herself so their cunts slide together. It takes a few tries, but eventually she manages to angle herself so their clits bump against each other. She moves her hips in little circles, shudders every time her clit grinds against Confick's. It feels good—but even better is the view of Confick's flush darkening.
"Does it feel good?" She asks, knowing she won't get a response. Confick isn't especially talkative at the best of times and she's even more taciturn during sex—unless Elke manages to catch her while she's brainstorming fixes for a coding error. Then she'll keep right on talking to herself, during.
Elke likes those times the best.
This is nice in it's own way, though. Confick lying back and letting Elke do whatever she wants to her, letting her use her—it's enough to drive her crazy. She might be able to achieve faster results with a different toy, but she doesn't want fast; she wants Confick.
Elke's first orgasm builds slow and hits hard. She digs her fingers into the flesh just above Confick's knee, pulls her leg against her hard enough that Confick makes a small noise in protest. Even so, she doesn't make any move to shake off Elke's grip, so Elke doesn't loosen it until the waves of her orgasm have passed.
The space between them is wetter now than when she started. Confick's face is even redder, too; some of the extra slick is probably hers. For all Elke knows, she could even have come again.
She starts moving again, starting slow before building to a faster rhythm than before. Confick doesn't protest, doesn't move—but by the time Elke's second orgasm hits, her flush has started creeping down her neck.
Elke pauses for a moment to catch her breath. She's satisfied, could easily stop now—but she knows the chances that she'll get Confick into this position again are unlikely. Better to take advantage of it while she still can.
She trains her eyes on Confick's face as she starts chasing her third orgasm, grinding hard and fast against her. Confick's flush deepens even more, creeps further down her body until it covers her shoulders and part of her chest.
That flush on her breasts is pretty. A reddish-pink that's similar in color to Confick's areolas, her stiff nipples. Idly, Elke reaches town to tweak one—and nearly does a double take when Confick actually makes a sound in response.
She can't quite tell what it was, whether it was a moan or a whine or something else entirely. The sound doesn't repeat when Elke does it again—but there is a sudden increase in the fluid leaking from Confick's cunt, enough that Elke is almost certain she came again.
Elke knows she should stop, should give Confick a moment to recover at least—but knowing that she just came, that this feels as good for her as it does for Elke is enough of a turn-on that she speeds up instead, rubs their clits together more insistently as her own orgasm starts to approach.
Confick's breathing gets heavier. It's a beautiful sound; Elke is torn between continuing to look at Confick's face or closing her eyes so she can focus on the sound of her breathing—when, on the next exhale, Confick lets out a trembling moan.
That's enough for Elke to tip over the edge. She clutches Confick's leg to her again, tilts her face towards it and bites down on Confick's thigh to keep the desperate whine that threatens to escape her inside. It means she hears the sound Confick lets out in response, something halfway between a whimper and a sigh.
It's incredible. Confick is never this responsive. Even though Elke's orgasm is barely finished, she moves again, wanting more, wanting—
"Enough," Confick says. Her voice is rough, trembling and a little wet. When Elke focuses on her face, her eyes are shiny with unshed tears. She isn't quite crying, but it's close.
Holy crap. Elke sways, feeling a little faint.
The sight is so arousing she grinds down again on instinct—only to stop abruptly when Confick honest to god sniffles. "Enough, I said. Stop."
Elke doesn't move immediately. It's only a moment of hesitation, but it's long enough for Confick to tack on a weak please.
Jesus. What the hell did Elke do to her?
Elke pulls back, dropping Confick's leg from her shoulder. It flops limply onto the bed; Elke expects Confick to either stay like that or get up to shower like she usually does, but instead she pulls both her legs up until she's curled into a loose ball, twisting her torso to bury her face in a pillow. Her upper back is just as red as her face and chest had been, and shiny with sweat besides. Her hair sticks to the nape of her neck with it; Elke reaches out a hand to brush it off—
And Confick flinches away from her.
"Are you okay?" Elke asks. She's never seen Confick behave like this before.
Confick grunts, the sound muffled by the pillow. Elke waits patiently for more of a response, some kind of explanation—but when it doesn't come, she hazards a guess.
"How many times did you come?"
Finally, Confick lifts her head from the pillow to pin Elke with a glare. "Seven," she says flatly.
Elke reels. "Seriously?"
Confick doesn't dignify that with an answer—but she does say, "Never do that again."
