forkedroad | (no subject)

(no subject)

As Annabelle walks on the hard wood floor, it's wet. Wet with black, cold ink, lapping around her feet—despite its darkness, it only leaves a faint gray trace of water on her feet as she slowly steps forward. Her skirt drifts side to side as she walks, gently, just at her ankles, and she's careful not to make a sound.

The room is cold, such that it stings her skin, burning the edges of her ears and knuckles bright pink. The hardwood floor, as far as she can manage to see, which isn't very far, is all there is of any discernible structure. But even the panels of the floor are eaten up by black, and she can't feel any impression of the walls around her.

She can see a bed, though—and someone in it. There's been so many times she's been the last one to bed, even if it wasn't exactly regular enough to be the known norm and routine, and she's seen the Tanner brothers comfortably tossed about the bed, sometimes entangled. But this time, there's only one of them. She can see the outline of him in the moonlight, though there are no windows. He's in his bed clothes, and is asleep.

As she gets closer to the bed, her skin breaks out in goosebumps, her pupils dilating as her focus is drawn in unwittingly by him. The closer she gets, the warmer the air becomes, pulling her nearer as a source of comfort. She kneels against the bed, right at the end of it. Lauren is curled on his side, a little, and seems roused by the shifting of the weight on the bed. He shifts, slightly, noticing Annabelle coming in at the foot of the bed, rather than the side of it, pushing himself up a little bit, his hair a sleepy mess. He looks tired, but not confused.

She comes forward across him, and Lauren anxiously wets the crease of his lips with his tongue as he watches her, anticipating. Her hand slides up the side of his thigh, and he shifts so that his back is against the bed. She can see his cock shift in his sleeping pants, and she continues moving up. Her hand brushes his crotch, and his breath hitches, his eyelids fluttering from the passing contact. She doesn't give him any more than that, and she moves further up. Lauren takes hungry handfuls of her skirt at its sides, his body tense once he feels her skirt brush his collarbones.

Annabelle watches him, and she feels as if she's burning. He licks his lips, not even looking at her, one of his hands coming forward to eagerly push her skirt up. It's a lot of fabric, so she assists him, lifting it. His palm smooths over her belly, then around to hold the small swell of her ass, guiding her down. She relaxes, following his gesture, and she feels his breath against her bare skin and shudders.

There's the familiar, velvety texture of his lips, horizontal against the vertical split of her cunt. It's a full, plush and affectionate kiss, bumping the soft nib of her clitoris, and her eyes roll closed as she takes a deep breath, body stiffening. She feels his tongue part her, and softly bat her clitoris side to side. She sucks in her lower lip, holding it with her teeth, eyes closed as she knits her eyebrows. Her head hangs, and she smooths her fingers through his hair. She takes a commanding handful of his hair, giving an immediate, but gentle yank, and it earns her a pleasurable moan against her sex. She breathes out heavily as Lauren both depletes and encourages her lubrication with hungry, instinctive ease, finding his tongue the most clever when its between her legs this way.

He sucks on her clit and labia, and she can feel his hands come around the backs of her thighs near her ass, pulling her closer. Her mouth hangs open in a quiet gasp, the contact becoming fuller as he deepens every lewd ministration on her cunt. She clutches his head, feeling sweat beginning to break out on her fevered flesh. It's overwhelming, and warm, each wave mounting more and more intensely. More than usual, she thinks. He licks her from the bottom of her open, eager split to the base of her clit in broad, slow, and confident strokes. She shudders, rolling on him slowly and carefully, and feels another groan from him.

His focus lingers on her clit, predominantly, though he occasionally redistributes the waking of her nerves with playful licks to her outter lips and the wettest part of her. It's not long before the articulations and distinct movements of his work on her becomes indiscernible to her. The ink is lapping around the bed, much higher than it was before, staining the sheets. Her body does a series of small jolts, which involuntarily arranges her head tilted far back, some of her curly dark hair stuck around her sweated brow, eyebrows slanted backwards with desperation as she cries out loudly. He doesn't relent, and she grips his hair urgently as she cums in his mouth. She cries his name, then does it again, and—

Her eyes open with a gasp, and it's over. She's staring at the ceiling, the room alight with the morning sun. Her breathing is quick, and her skin and hair are both damp. She sits up, and sees Susan and Lauren. Susan is asleep with the back of his hand on Lauren's face, and Lauren is sleeping on his side, drooling a little on his pillow as his face is smooshed by his younger brother. Annabelle looks at him with wide eyes, a little jarred by the very different images painted between fantasy and reality.

She winces, and rubs the sleep out of her eyes with slow rubs of her knuckles against them. She pauses, holding her hands there, and bites her lip. Her clit and cunt both ache, especially on the inside. But she isn't like Lauren—she can't just go take care of it with great ease and convenience. She sighs irritably, dropping her hands, and glares at Lauren before she hops off the bed.

She goes to draw herself a cold bath. When it's finally full enough, she wakes both of the brothers with a start when she hollers in agony from plunging herself in it. When she eventually emerges, sopping wet in her towel, looking like a put out, drowned cat, she storms to her side of the bed to get some of her after bath care and explains nothing.

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"What do you mean you saw too much?" he whispershouts back.

"Your face! Gratuitously!! Between my legs! Your face, Lauren!"

She's gesturing at him so accusingly, it's like she's blaming him as though he'd done it on purpose.

He turns bright red immediately. He knows he shouldn't be trying to picture it in his mind but... Between her legs. Unthinkingly his gaze shifts down to her skirt. Between her legs. Shit.

She points at him sternly, having caught his glance.

"Don't."

He closes his eyes, his face feeling hot. "You started it!"

"You started it! If you'd only taken my word for it, I wouldn't have felt the need to so urgently clarify! Believe me when I tell you things like this!"

Now her face is red. She lifts her arm to cover her face, feeling foolish.

"I'm not trying to antagonize you; I'm confused."

Maybe if she reiterates that, he'll stop thinking about what she said.

He's about to argue more, telling her he had believed her, but she sounds so unsure. What should he say to her?

"It just... This just happens sometimes. It doesn't have to mean anything."

Annabelle pauses uncertainly, peering over her arm at Lauren.

"Are you sure? Does it mean I'm attracted to you?"

"I'm sure." he reiterates, sounding more confident this time. It wasn't like he had freaky sex dreams constantly, but he'd definitely had some with people he wasn't interested in before. He doesn't even answer the attracted to him question because obviously the answer is no. "I mean, it's kind of weird you haven't gotten any before now, but... Everyone develops differently so."

This was beginning to feel way to similar to a conversation he'd had with Susan not too long ago.

Annabelle watches Lauren as he talks, because she's interested in his response. But she slowly squints as she soon begins to lose focus of his words specifically. Instead, she becomes increasingly fixated on his mouth as he talks. His lips. They are pretty, she decides, but puzzles all the same over whether or not she feels sexual attraction. It had felt so good, though. Had his lips moved similarly on her sex, as with how he talks?

It becomes clear Annabelle isn't listening.

He stares at her after he finishes talking, waiting for her to respond. And she doesn't. He waits a little longer.

"Annabelle?"

She glances back up at his eyes when he says her name, but she still looks pensive and puzzled. She wonders if she's going to change—if this is going to shape her thinking, or if it'll happen again. Already, she feels as if her perspective is shifting. She tilts her head.

She doesn't say anything right away, then she rubs both of her eyes with her fingertips, dipping her head with a frustrated little sigh.

"I can't focus." She peers back up at him with a scowl. "If this is how men feel all the time, I don't envy you."

What. Does that. Even. Mean??? He cocks his head to the side, looking at her as though he genuinely cannot understand her. It's as though he's staring at some strange unknown magical creature or that his mind has just stopped being able to process human language. Men feel doing what!? Looking at women? Oh god, what, why? She was distracted by him? Did she... .?????? His mind short circuits on that thought, it's just far to embarrassing, way too much for him to handle at the exact moment. He forces his eyes closed, taking a breath before suddenly he turns away. Right. Okay.

"I'm going... To do... Something."

As Lauren stares at her in confusion, Annabelle stares right back, similarly a little confused herself. Why is he looking at her like that? What is he thinking??

"Have fun with that," Annabelle huffs out in defeat, dropping one of her arms as she blinks in bafflement at the floor, eyebrows raised. Maybe she'd go pick up some books about this horseshit.

One of the good things about adventures like these were that they knocked Susan out fast and hard. He had a lot of magical power for a kid his size, but he was still a kid, and using that much magic that fast usually left him feeling more than a little wiped at the end of the day. With Susan asleep Annabelle and particularly Lauren are free for the night, which means that Lauren ends up indulging in more than the usual amount of ale. With the adventure of course Annabelle had scored to, a book about some complicated metaphysical magic. To be honest, Lauren wasn't completely sure what it was about or why she'd wanted it, but it was apparently a big deal, so she'd brought it to the pub for some late night kind of tipsy reading. If she even was tipsy? He hadn't been keeping an eye on her drinking. He trusted her to make responsible decisions, which was almost always a big mistake on his part.

It was. If Annabelle knew that Lauren trusted her to be responsible, she would laugh in his face, despite being flattered. She doesn't think she's ever wrong—but she does know that she doesn't give a damn for responsibility a lot of the time, especially as it feels imposing. Something she really doesn't care for.

Annabelle has finished one mug of ale, as of about fifteen minutes ago. She's a little buzzed, and she wonders if that's why she feels so flushed. She's pouring over the book, not considering that perhaps Lauren might be a little bored because of her inattentiveness—but by now, they're the sort of friends who can comfortably be in one another's solitude without intrusion, and with the benefit of enjoying one another's company anyway.

She blinks heavily, rubbing her eyes, and then squints, licking her lip as she tries to steel her focus a little harder. The pub's a little noisy. Maybe that's it?

But also, her sex feels tense. The labia, the clit, the inside. Not hugely, but it's distracting, and annoying. Since she had that dream about Lauren—and another one, but different and slightly less sexual—it sort of happens at random when she's in his company, and she's gotten a little better at ignoring it. Namely by reading or otherwise distracting herself, even if she gets kind of tense and distant.

This time, though, she doesn't understand. It feels random. Even her breasts feel sort of hot, which is strange. She shifts in her seat a couple of times.

Finally, she lifts her head from her book.

"Do you feel warm?"

He isn't terribly bored. It's something he'd never say, but he likes listening to people. He likes watching them interact and thinking about what could be going on in their lives. It's normally the kind of thing he does, even if he's out and about with the others. So he isn't paying much attention to Annabelle at first. The shifting catches his attention, and he looks to her just in time to see her look up to him. Her face is red, she's clearly drunk, at least that's what he's assuming is making her feel so warm. He laughs, her confused expression was kind of cute, not that he got to see it very often, though as of late he'd seen it a few more times than usual.

"It's just the ale." he comments, motioning to her drink. "You haven't had that much, have you?"

"One mug," she says with a frown, glancing at it.

Must be arousal, then, she concludes to herself privately. But that's so annoying. She decides she'll just deal with it exactly as she has been—ignoring it, and keeping herself occupied. She's heard recently that sometimes women get like this before their periods, so she wonders if her cycle is coming soon or something.

"Weird," she concludes, eyes falling back to her text. It's been useful, so far—exciting, even! Too exciting.

Five minutes of further reading equates to a lot of parsed text, and Annabelle squirms again. Her wrist is now between her knees, which are pressed together. She readjusts completely, crossing her legs and then resting an arm across the table. Her posture is becoming increasingly unnatural and unrelaxed. She's also wet, now; she can feel it, and it's unpleasant.

She realizes, also, she shouldn't move too much—but she only just realizes it. Because movements are becoming sort of stimulating.

why this

He shakes his head, watching as she only too eagerly goes back to her reading. She was an odd girl, that was sure, but she was entertaining at least. He shakes his head, watching her as he takes another drink. The barmaid comes over and he happily asks for another one, seeming to lose some of his usual shyness thanks to the drink. When he looks back at Anna he sees her squirming. He laughs, because she looks ridiculous.

"If you have to pee they have a room for that." he says, a bit louder than normal because of the noise of the pub. He leans forward trying to draw her attention away from her book.

Annabelle's heart stops for a second when Lauren leans forward, and her loins powerfully respond. It makes her swallow uncomfortably, her eyes dilating as her fingernails scrape the wood of the table.

"I don't need to pee," she says with a squint and a shake of her head, sassing him unduely. Part of her wants him to come even closer. But she also wants to keep reading. She's torn between what to give her attention to.

He only laughs in response. Her reaction is, strange, but he doesn't think on it more than to find it entertaining. Maybe he was drunker than he thought if he was annoying her already.

"Than why are you squirming about Annabelle?" he asks, looking smug.

Annabelle wants to be annoyed, but she's finding his behavior very cute. She likes Lauren when he's tipsy; he seems bolder than usual. Right now in particular. She almost bluntly says because her body is dying from the want of sex, but she purses her lips instead, looking cross at Lauren.

She can't even be honest—not very easily. He's going to think she's like...getting off on learning. Which would honestly be more acceptable than whatever this is.

For once, she doesn't have some immediate, clever and playfully biting comeback. She huffs, at odds with what to do, or what to say. She can't even think of a lie. All she can think of is Lauren's stupid mouth. It's all she can look at. Okay, Lauren is winning the attention-span tug-of-war now. She is accidentally looking at him very intensely.

"...I can't focus," she responds vaguely, sounding both a little irritated and a little crestfallen.

She's not specifying why, but...

Edited 2017-04-23 01:51 (UTC)

He rolls his eyes, still not dropping the smug look. He rests his hands on the table, leaning closer and lifting out of his seat a bit. He glances at her still open book, but he's far to drunk to try and read.

"I didn't know lack of focus cause squirming." he said before glancing back to her and smiling widely. "Maybe you're books just too boring to be reading at the moment."

"It's very interesting," she counters, staring at him with wide, wide eyes as he comes ever closer. His grin is about three times as cute as it normally is. She glances him up and down in almost a panic. This must have been sexual attraction. Is it because she's aroused? "It's more that you're too distracting for me to be reading, at the moment."

Rudeass fuckin' druidy idiot, being all suspiciously and unusually attractive or something, apparently. She wants him closer. She wants to feel his breath and his lips. Why. WHY

She doesn't want him to stop smiling and being generally playful, exactly—in fact, were she in normal sorts, she would have been exceedingly pleased by this. But she's vaguely distressed and extremely horny.

"...To clarify, I'm not complaining."

He was annoying her than. Normally that might bother him, but she took pleasure in bothering him all the time so he figured it was fine if he did the same every once in a while. Though she says she's not complaining. His grin softens before turning a little mischievous.

"Guess I need to try a little harder." Still he's a bit stuck for idea on how to be annoying. It only takes him a second to decide on something. Reaching forward he snatches her book before pulling back just as fast.