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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

"Lauren!"

Annabelle attempts to snatch it back, because she was still reading it!! And it's her only bastion of distraction from dying of a lady boner. Her hands grasping the book across the table, ale glass (thankfully empty) knocked over, Annabelle awkwardly half hovers over the table, since Lauren's pulled the book back.

"I need this book to live. If you take it from me, I'm going to die. Do you want to kill me, Lauren?"

He laughs again as he pulls back in his chair holding the book in the air behind him.

"You won't die!" he laughs. He lifts a foot as though he's going to kick her away if she comes any closer. "You can't read it now anyway, you said so yourself!"

"I need to, Lauren," Annabelle says with low urgency, leaning more forward and more dramatically over the table. The silliness of the situation is finally getting to her, though, and her serious expression breaks with a bubbly laugh. "You git. If I'm not reading, having to put up with you will surely kill me."

She's so ridiculous, always, how can he do anything but laugh?

"You've been fine so far!"

"I am far from fine. I am suffering. Deeply. Immeasurably." She grins, tugging on the book, trying to pull it back. "Give it back, or I will set you on so much fire."

He grins at her, "Do your worst."

And then he lets go of the book, so the force of her own pulling knocks her off balance.

And so it does. She makes a sound of surprise, and falls back a little too hard into her chair. She scoffs, then laughs, and kicks him under the table as she clutches the book.

"You tit!"

She clutches the book a little bit more tightly to herself, over her chest. Perhaps too tight. Damn. Hormones are incredible. She feels completely enamored. And, you know, completely incapacitated physically.

"Can't believe this shameless audacity. I like it."

He just shakes his head resting his hand on his leg. Even as she kicks him, he can't stop finding this hilarious.

"Shameless!" he shouts, in joyful disbelief, "That's a riot coming from you!"

Annabelle laughs again, this time quite loudly, and raises her eyebrows, surprised by his candor. And kind of increasingly turned on by it. What the fuck.

"I've clearly been an astoundingly good influence," she remarks, looking smug as she looks across the table towards him. "Perhaps teaching is more my calling than I'd previously anticipated."

He points to her, his eyebrows rising, "No."

He can't even imagine her teaching anyone anything. They would all end up running away in fright or frustration before anything could get down.

"You have the patience of a child, how could you possibly get anything done with a student? You can't even read your book!"

His hand slams down onto the table, his head rolling to the side as he reaches for his drink again. When he sits it down again it's empty and he looks vaguely satisfied. He shakes his head staring into the empty mug.

"Ridiculous... Teaching."

Annabelle laughs incredulously.

"I've clearly done it well enough," she protests, gesturing to Lauren.

She knows it's most likely the alcohol. She raises an eyebrow, and takes his mug after she sets the book down beside her on the chair. "I think you've had enough, sir," she says near the rim of the mug, her eyes on her friend voraciously. She has a penchant for intense gazes, so its true nature is probably not readily apparent.

He raises an eyebrow back, though there's something in her gaze that makes his face heat. He wasn't going to order another serving anyway, but something about the way she's taken his cup makes him want to fight over it. He leans closer once more, meeting her gaze with his own, though it's more playful than voracious.

"I've always been this way, perhaps you just haven't noticed."

Annabelle smiles and bites her lip, and a little laugh bubbles from her. She reaches a hand forward to playfully give his head a gentle shove, simultaneously mussing his hair a bit in the process.

"That's because if that's true, you've selfishly kept it to yourself."

This banter makes her cunt feel like it's on fire. It's awful, but also wonderful; the energy they're exchanging is intoxicating.

He bumps his head back against her hand, looking at her affectionately.

"Maybe I don't like to share."

Annabelle feels a compromising throb, and shifts her legs, pressing them together anxiously. She smiles while biting her lip again.

"That's what makes this delictable," she retorts, and laughs a little. It's getting harder to ignore. She reaches into her skirt pocket, putting down a coin for Lauren's ale.

"Let's go outside."

He shrugs, before pulling back and coming to a stand. He reaches out for her hand as she leads them, holding it loosely in his own.

Annabelle's breath suspends in a hitch in her throat when he takes her hand; her physical reaction is staggering. She's never experienced this sort
of electrifying fire, especially not in response to another person.

She leads him out of the pub, and rather than taking him down the path that takes them back towards the inn, she sort of... wanders elsewhere, towards the center of the town, indicating she isn't done for the night—just done with the pub.

He follows her aimlessly, staring around them. Almost no one is outside still at this time of night, and the chilly air bites at his skin. It's dark, but his nightvision gives him the benefit of sight despite the lack of light. He can see Annabelle clearly in front of him, and he wonders just what her plan is in between moments of gazing up at the stars. Winter would come soon, he could see by the placement of the serpent, it's tail just over the horizon. He calls out it's name in elvish, stopping Annabelle for a moment as he points to the sky.

He starts to name them, in a mix of elvish and english as his somewhat tipsy mind struggles to translate the words for her.

Annabelle stops with a jerk when Lauren stops to name constellations, and struggles to keep his language straight. Something about it is so wrenchingly authentic; she feels like this, all night, has been a demonstration of Lauren's truest self. His affectionate antagonism, forgetting his second language, staring at the stars and clumsily holding her hand.

She watches him as he's pointing haphazardly; then she takes his wrist, lowering his hand, and leans in to press a kiss against his lips. It's easy enough—they're around the same height.