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The horror movie was over. As the credits rolled, the girl could not help thinking what the boy thought during the film's gory death scenes. She had seen what he was into, based on his social media.
So, she asked, “Were you into any of that?”
“Hell, yeah, I was.”
A playful grin spread on her lips. “It got you hot?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling. “It sure did.”
“What part?”
“Ohh, a lot of scenes. But especially the part where the girl was getting strangled.”
“Why? You wish that you were in her place?”
“Hell, yeah, dude.”
Her eyes lit up. “How bad do you wanna get choked-out?”
“I need it right now.”
Eagerly, she offered, “Can I do it for you?”
“Yes, please,” he responded with what sounded like a relieved exhale.
“Well,” she adjusted her knees on the couch, “I'd want you to touch me in return.”
“I would not mind doing that.”
Her heart raced with excitement. They had been friends for two years now, initially meeting through an online community. Despite their shared interests, they were also polar opposites on their preferences. So, she felt the need to clarify:
“I know you'd like for me to be really intense, right? Maybe even degrading.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I'd like for you to be a little dominant, while still making me feel safe. Praise instead of degradation, y'know?”
“Of course. I can absolutely pull that off.”
“Just so we're clear: do you actually find me attractive?”
“Yes, I do. And, I do like that black lipstick on you.”
“Thank you!”
They had a discussion, planning on who would do what, and when the roles would switch.
“Okay,” she tells him now, “lie down.” He does, and she climbs on top, straddling his hips. “How much?” she asks, her hands going to his throat.
“Hard,” he says lowly.
She squeezes his neck, tentatively at first. He groans under her touch, his eyes never leaving her. When she notices his low-lidded stare, her grip gets tighter.
“Do it harder,” he strains. “Harder.”
“Until you pass out?”
“Oh, God. Please.”
She lets go, making him gasp. She scoots higher, until her legs enclose the sides of his face. “Lift your head,” she orders.
He does, and her thighs gain easier access around his neck. She does her best to squeeze around him. He moans, and she asks, “You feel that–my clit throbbing against you?”
“Mm-hmph.”
She places a hand over his forehead, fingers raking through his head of hair, and he looks right up at her. With his eyes on the verge of fluttering shut, he places his hands over her thighs, running down and up, fingernails gripping at her through the fabric.
“I'm gonna be nice to you now,” she says, and raises herself off of him. “Keep touching me like that. Bite me, please.”
He does so, lifting his head off the couch seat to place nibbles over the part of her body that almost made him lose consciousness. She has to resist the urge to rub herself over him until she comes to orgasm. Quickly, she shifts away, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down, their faces at the same level.
“You want me to bite you?” she teases.
“Yes,” he gasps, breathing in the air he had been deprived of.
She proceeds to lean down and bite his neck, him turning his head to give her more access. She eases her mouth to the skin on his collarbone, going around and bringing her teeth to an earlobe.
Despite not digging hard enough to leave him blooming bruises, he whispers, low and shaking, “Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Keep going.”
Her warm breath radiates as she breathes against the other side of his neck, a tongue coming out to lap where she had grazed him. He begins arching his body into hers.
“Such an impatient boy,” she degrades him, and he stills himself with a shudder. “You look so pathetic right now, acting so desperate for me. But you gotta wait, you know.”
His hips jerk briefly, and he gasps, “How much?”
“Until I say so.” She acknowledged a hardening beneath her: “God,” she laughed. “You're not even trying to hide how needy you are. Barely able to keep it under control, because of me.” His clammy hands clenched into fists, trembling. “What a nasty, pathetic slut you are.” Out his lips came a small gasp and moan. “You're trying so hard not to touch me. I can tell. Be a good boy and let me continue using you like this.”
“Oh,” he choked out. “Please. C'mon. Can't take it…”
“You're just my little toy for now. I wonder how long you can handle it until--”
His hands were on her hips, and she was in his arms, being lifted off the couch. She gasps sharply, clamping her knees and arms around him as he carries her to the bedroom nearby. She lands on her back to the bed, him above her. She briefly flails her arms in faux retaliation before her wrists are gripped and pinned onto the mattress.
“Fuck,” he growled lowly, his half-pseudo frustration sending a chill through her. “You drive me crazy. Can't take it anymore.”
She could see he was trembling, on the verge, but held back, showcasing his dominance. A firm grip at her throat–but not firm enough to cut off her airway. A low groan from him, almost a growl. He whispered, “I can feel your heartbeat.” He lowered himself, head resting just above her breast bone. “If I could, I would eat your heart out.” A nip at her neck, making her gasp quietly. Gently, a set of fingers pushed at her jawline, signaling to turn her head, giving him more access. In her ear was whispered, “I could leave lovely, purple bruises on your skin. You'd walk around in public with them on display, wouldn't you? Let them see–see what I did and know that you belong to me.”
A shiver ran down her spine, imagining herself, without shame, looking people straight in the eye, as their attention was on the bruises that had bloomed on her neck. She challenged, “What's stopping you?”
Another nip, a gentle suction, trailing from her neck to a shoulder he bared by pulling the collar of her shirt down. “Don't want your parents finding out,” he mumbled. “A sweet girl like you gettin’ into trouble.”
She arched her back, acting like she was trying to break free, deliberately rubbing against him. His thigh found her legs in-between, pressing in, and a sharp exhale escaped her throat.
“C'mon,” he coaxed, “I wanna hear your voice. You must sound so cute when you're so turned-on. Moan for me.”
She whispered whimperingly, “I'm embarrassed.”
“Don't be. Just once.”
As he rocked against her, each move sending a wonderful wave through her, she proceeded with caution. Out came a crying yelp, vibrating her throat, before swiftly covering her mouth with her hand.
“Mmm. That was so precious. You must be soaking wet from grinding yourself on me.”
Her breathing got louder, heavier, hands gripping the back of his shirt tightly. She stifled the sounds that threatened to leave her mouth, as the sparks went off, spreading from her groin. Her behind arched off the bed, motioning into him as the sensation overwhelmed her.
“That's it,” he whispered. “That's a good girl.”
Her first orgasm–not caused by herself, but because of someone else. As she rode it out, and settled down, the next thing she registered was his hips jerking, bucking back into her.
“Fuck,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck.” A deep growl escaped his throat, ragged. “I'm coming.”
With desperate moans, he rutted messily against her thigh, and she met his movements, the pressure adding further pleasure to her sweet spot. Soon, she felt a warm wetness released in his jeans. As his whimpers died down, along with his rhythm, he steadily laid over her, head resting on her chest. The only sounds in the room were the pair of ragged breathing.
After a minute of his weight over hers, he muttered, “How're you?”
“Oh, I'm great.” She laughed.
His head raised as he searched her expression. He leaned down, lips placing kisses over her cheeks and nose. “You were perfect, baby.”
She took the opportunity to bring their mouths together. Her first kiss. She goes with his flow, parting her lips when he does, taking a quick breath as her chin lifts into it. The snake bite piercings on his lower lip lightly graze her skin.
He sets himself aside, allowing her to nestle in his arms. Their breathing was evening out, his chest rising and falling over her cheek. She grinned in satisfaction, her mind beginning to brew with scenarios for the future where this continued. Of jumping into his arms, being dipped for a kiss; of their lips meeting after a charged stare, his hands finding her waist as he hoisted her up.
It was then that, after basking in his arms and the shared silence, he spoke: “We can't do this again.”
She snapped her head up and gasped, “What? Wh-why not?”
“Because,” he sighed quietly, rubbing his eyes, “there's a lot going on in my life right now. I'm pretty busy with my job. I've got some health problems I need to take care of.”
At once, her fantasy shattered: not only of their future trysts, but their friendship becoming something more. Her first boyfriend, a long-distance relationship.
“Oh,” she croaked, settling her head back down. “I see. Thank you for telling me.”
“Yeah, sorry,” he murmured, rubbing her shoulder soothingly. “I don't want you to feel like I'm stringing you along if I don't say something now.”
“You don't see us being something more?”
“Mm-mm. I can't guarantee I'll have the time for it, or that I'll do right by you.”
“Oh. Alright, then.” She leaned into his touch, nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
They relaxed in each other's arms, at least treasuring what they had shared together.