Bleach!

The world around him was slowly returning as he was lifted from his slumber, the muted hues and colours of his dreams sifting into the bright shadows of a waking life. His eyes focused further, and he could see the soft curves of a bronze body lying next to him.

She was still curled deeply around the finger of sleep as she lie breathing quietly next to him, the tan of her skin uninterrupted by white; she was perfectly sun-spoiled from head to toe, and she was absolutely delicious. He smiled to himself. I must still be stoned.

He placed a hand on the small of her back and she rolled over, thus exposing a fully tanned, but naked, chest to the open air. She rolled in her sleep from the cold, and scattered a fistful of covers over her chilled, sleeping form. His hand had kept in contact with her as she wiggled among the sheets, and he single-handedly scooped her up and she cuddled to the warmth of his naked skin.

He just held her like that for a while, her head tucked beneath his chin with her flaxen hair spilling through his fingers. They rocked back and forth across the bed as he shook the last remnants of sleep from his mind. Eyes fully focused, her regarded her in all her evening splendor as the rain hurtled down against the roof. He smiled to himself once more: the rain was keeping them in, and everyone else out. Perfect.

He placed his lips upon hers ever so lightly, moving them part to access the pool of heat beneath. He could slowly feel her coming alive, and a porcelain hand on his bare chest confirmed it. He pulled away, relishing the look on her face; her eyes were reduced to slits in the small light of the room, her cheeks blossoming into a deep blush. Her skin had pulled into tight Goosebumps from the cold, so he clutched her more firmly against him.

“You awake?”

“No.” She rolled into him, shutting her eyes again.

He bounced her out of his arms and flat on to the bed, where he assaulted her once more. His mouth fell upon hers with a violent vigor, hastily licking and sucking on her tongue and changing rhythm so fast, that she couldn’t keep it. She whimpered beneath his powerful body and he pulled away to let her yell, “I’m fucking awake!”

“Good.”

He kissed her softer this time as a reward, still feeling her tentative touch as the he purged the cold from her shapely body. She grabbed two fistfuls of white sheet in an attempt to keep herself from angering him further by stroking him, and no matter how hard the urge, she tried to resist with an awful vengeance.

He parted a centimetre and whispered huskily, “Go on, touch.”

She considered refusing as his penance, but she decided against it; she would only be punished further. He was so young, so strong, so alive—he could easily overpower her, as he had just done. She was, however, able to beat him at his own game. But first things first: satisfy her own need.

Her hands ran along the creases of his muscles, over the turns of his arms—he flexed as she passed by—and across the expanse of his back, working out any knots in the contours of his body. He felt just the way he had last night, except he wanted to make sure she was absolutely sure about him; the night before, she returned home pretty well sloshed, and he could have done anything, and she’d have forgotten. But he was a good person towards love, and towards her, so he decided what’s past is past, you must move forward.

He broke the kiss and smiled triumphantly. “Congrats. You don’t taste like Vodka Collins anymore.” He leaned over her again. “In fact, you taste-“

The sentence drowned in his throat as he felt a small hand worm between his warm flesh and his boxers to grasp the stiffened anatomy beneath. She smiled from beneath him. “Pardon?” She jerked up the shaft.

He grunted, hands flying to his sides to support himself. She brought her hand flying back down, and he growled, “You’re so good to me.”

She simply smiled, and moved her hand up the moistening member, until she felt the liquid rush beneath the skin, and he came into the cupped palm of her hand. She pulled out and touched her face, the sticky cream trailing from her fingertips to her blushed cheek. She was teasing him, and the last contents of his manhood spilled into his boxers. He rolled off of her and swore. She touched his back cautiously. “Did I do something wrong?”

He whirled around and tried to smile. “No, not at all. That was beyond heavenly. I’d say I could die happy right now, but I want more time with you.” They kissed once more, and he scuttled to the armoire, ripping of his old boxers and slipping on a fresh new set. She smiled. “Pretty elaborate, Drin, even though there isn’t anything there I haven’t seen already.”

“I know, but it’s a seventh sense—sixth being a you sense—and there isn’t anything you can do about it.” He stuck out his tongue, and she pounced on it, twining it with her own until she pulled back to fall across the sheets. “So what’s for breakfast?”

He clambered back on the bed, cocking his head to the side. “Do you really not like me, or has your brain relocated itself in your stomach?”

“You mean we’re not done?” She sat up and he curled a massive arm around her to keep her from moving. He arranged the pillows like a chair and fell back on them, pressing her back against his toned stomach. A hand fell across her pebbled breast, and she sucked in a steady breath. He couldn’t help himself; he giggled. “That’s because it’s cold, thought I’d rather it’d been because of me, so I’m going to make sure.”

He spread her legs with his agile hands and flattened a palm against the juncture between her thighs. She had shaved recently, so there wasn’t much of a puff for him to goof off with. He took hold of her panties’ thin straps, and pulled them down off her hips. Her head fell back against his chest, and he reached up to pet her before moving on. “Something you want to tell me before we continue?” he teased, playing with a firm breast.

“No,” she stammered, pulling her hands into fists.

His hands brushed the outside of her body. “You sure?”

She debated in her head, and her control broke. “I’m a virgin.”

He chuckled. “I thought so. Well, lemme show you how to scream, little miss virgin.”

A long finger sank into her innermost core and she yelped, clawing at the sheets. He reached across her body and clasped her hand, feeling her squeeze it tightly. He pushed harder; the outer lips had spread easily, and the inner lips, though lubricated, were still snug. He leaned forward and put his whole arm into it, of course dimmed in his iron promise not to harm her. His knuckles were pressed to the hilt, and he reached, feeling a spongy obstruction in his way. He smiled; she had spoken true. She was as pure as a fifteen-year-old could be.

He pulled out and leaned back again, the girl in his lap still squirming in half-pleasure. Jesus, he was going to make her scream until her blood boiled, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Releasing her hand, he spread her out again and inserted a finger, searching for the knob of flesh that could give a woman so much pleasure. He found it nestled between the folds of skin layered there, quiet, hiding. He gave it a teasing fleck, and her movement halted entirely.

He looked at her, head balanced keenly on his shoulder. Her eyes were dark and she was breathing harder. A low whine rose in her throat, and it set off a blaze in his blood. He returned to his work; his clever hand worked the tiny coil inside her, and then he felt a smear of oily liquid.

He laughed out loud, smiling feverishly as he watched her head toss about. “Ooh, baby, you are going to cum tonight.”

He worked it a little harder into her until he knew it couldn’t stiffen anymore, the single drop of cum multiplying into a foamy lather. He used a second finger and placed it deep inside her, stopping to let her breath catch up with her. He felt her squeeze his arm. “Please, Drin,” she breathed. “I don’t know if I’m ready for what’s going on…”

“Not ready?” he said, not believing her. He swiped his fingers along her crease and showed them to her; they were almost dripping with her juices. “Girl, you are so wet and creamy and open. I’ve just started. Just lay back and try to relax.” He licked his fingers clean.

He spread the crevice of her sex open and slid in two fingers. She winced, but a pleasured sigh rattled out of her lungs. He pumped steadily and she took a handful of his blonde hair in her meek and feeble hands, pleading to him. “Drin! I don’t want this!”

He attached his mouth to the side of her neck, softly licking and sucking the supple flesh there, his fingers still moving inside her. “You will.”

True to his words, her head fell back to his left breast and with a sigh, she spent herself right there in his hand. She was breathing so hard; he thought he’d accidentally hurt her. He was careful to leave as much wetness on her as possible as he wiped his hand off and hugged her close. “It’s okay to want your man, baby. There isn’t anything you can do about it. Can you ride this out?”

She bit her lip and squeezed his hand. He kissed her cheek. “I’ll make it worth the pain, kiddo. Believe me.”

She nodded, and he cradled her in his arms as he rearranged her on the pillows. “Now, I’ve counted two for me, and one for you…we got one more for each of us coming up. You want me to even out the score?”

She knew him better than that. “That’s rhetorical.”

“Damn straight,” he said, smiling. She was so much fun.

He pressed the length of their bodies together, and whispered to her, “Got m’self a clever tongue. Just you watch. This one’s all from the mouth.”

He kissed her deeply and slowly, tasting a bit of herself in the furnace of his mouth. He trailed kisses across her jaw and down her chest, leaving a wonderful, burning sensation wherever he went. His hands were working her breasts into straining peaks of pleasure, and finally, he lowered the honeyed heat of his mouth over one, and she screamed. He sucked, and she moaned. If it was possible, he got even hotter, an inferno whirling through his senses. But he was worried; he shouldn’t have gotten a reaction that fast. “Baby, you okay?”

She was breathing like she was dying. “Jesus! I’ve never…you’re so…”

He grinned slyly. “You’ve never had a man love you before?”

She shook her head, and squirmed beneath him. He sighed. “I’ll show you how good it feels, hun. Just try to relax. Breathe for me.”

As she whimpered in fright, he set upon her with his mouth, licking and exploring the golden creases of her young, supple body. She flailed and thrashed beneath his weight, but that only turned up new areas that he was happy to lavish with attention. Finally, she lie still on the bed, letting his tongue roll over her, all the while waiting for the wave of pleasure to crash over her. He smiled. “Yes, let me love you like you should be loved.”

He placed his hand to the juncture between her things, and gave a final lick to her chest. She called his name, and spilled her remaining sugar into his waiting palm. He smeared it along the crease of her sex, and sat up to look at her.

Her hands were twisting in the sheets, blonde hair strewn carelessly across the pillows. Her blue eyes were hot pools, and he could see the shiny residue he’d left on her bronze body. Then a different thought stuck him; was she the girl he was falling in love with? The one here, on the sheets, at the mercy of his skill?

He kissed her softly and stroked her hair. “You were so good, baby. It’s going to be alright.”

He reached over to the side table and extracted a tiny square of shiny silver. Tearing it open, she could see it yielded him a single rubber, and she shank back in fear. “Don’t do that! I don’t want that!”

“That’s the fear talking, baby,” he said, rolling the shield down his fleshy length.

She wrapped her hand around it and looked him in the eyes. “You said you’d never rape someone. I said ‘no’. If you do, then…”

He cupped her chin in his jaw and looked her dead in the eyes. “I am not going to rape you. You are going to want this. Don’t you sit here and tell me you didn’t want what happened before. I was making you feel it; I know damn straight you wanted me back there. Do I have to make you beg?”

He leaned over her and she bent backwards, trying to keep her balance. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want me.”

She knew if she lost her balance, she was in for it. She steadied herself with one hand, and gazed deep into those ice blue eyes. Clearly but nervously, she pronounced, “I don’t want you.”

He held the sincerity for a moment; she thought he would back off and pick this up later, but he started to laugh at her. “You suck at lying.” With one hand, he pushed her flat on the bed and fell on top of her. He balanced himself with one hand to place himself properly, but he never got the chance; Leah was turning out with fear an anxiety. In a small flurry of fighting, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her side, seeing that she had begun to cry. He remembered she had never done this before, and he suddenly ached for her; he knew how bad it felt to be thrown in the melting pot and try to do your best to adapt and fit in, but human emotions had gotten the best of her, and there were no words he could find to do her justice.

“Come on, Leah, don’t cry. Look at me, sweetie.”

She squeezed her eyes shut to try and flush away the tears, but his clever tongue had claimed her chaffed face. With salt in his mouth, he said soothingly, “Just relax.”

He placed his elbows by her face to cradle her and her hands looped around his arms, squeezing him, silently pleading. “Please, Drin. Let’s just wait…not today, oh…please.”

“Wait? Why? We’re gonna fuck, you might as well accept it. I promise I’ll be careful and go slow for you. Hold on for me, and you might just get seconds.”

He reached down and slid another finger inside her. She sighed, making him smile. “See? It can be good between us.”

He pulled in and out to lubricate his finger and slicked himself with her juices to further help him slide home. He talked to her all the while; Drin liked to talk. “This is what it’s gonna feel like.”

She threw her head to the side. “Oh, Lord, you’re much bigger than that, Drin.”

“Damn straight.”

She tried to twist away beneath him, but he held her steady as he positioned himself at the entrance to her body’s opening. “You’re so tiny, kiddo. I’m going in now.”

He pushed and the outer lips parted to welcome him; he slid a few inches. An aching pain overcame her as the walls of her sex slowly formed themselves around his intruding member. He flexed to slide a little more. “Ooh, yeah. Hot ‘n wet ‘n oh-so-tight.”

His slow advance was suddenly halted as he felt himself pressed to the hilt, blocked by a spongy divide that separated him from his goal. She was tangled in the deep pits of agony, but she could hear him calling to her, saying, “Leah! I need to see your eyes.”

She twisted away, trying to ease the pain. His control was wearing away. “Your eyes, dammit!”

She turned to face him, and he was surprised to see the lustful glaze icing the top of her eyes. Behind the shade, he could sense fear, but also love—something he had much to learn of. “You ready, Leah? Ready to become a woman?”

Her voice was high and languid. “Drin, I’m a virgin on the verge. Stop wasting valuable love time.” She gulped. “I want you.”

He pulled out a bit, and placed his feet on the footboard. “Here we go!”

He pushed off as hard as he could, splitting the tiny membrane deep inside her foamy core and sinking into the innermost parts of her sacred body. He surfaced slowly, and he dove back in, watching the look on her face transform from fear to anguish. She was in pain.

When he finally popped her, when he at last slid home and made her his own, her vision was phased by an awesome pain. Her world was coming down in the din of the rain as his body slid against hers, the friction generating a crackling sphere of electric agony and pleasure. That’s when she felt the pleasure kick in. He jumped off the footboard again, and the pain was reduced to a dull ache, and completely vanished when he began to play with the morsel of flesh that hid shyly between their mingling sexes.

The colours in her eyes began to slide in an out of focus and his thrusts became shorter and quicker. He slammed into her harder than ever, and she screamed. That was a scream of pure arousal, and he liked it; he needed more. He fell against her again, and squeezed out a startled, sexy yelp. She was squabbling on the sheets, caught in her first ever orgasm caused by a man.

He wasn’t a type who liked to completely master his partner—sure, he wanted to be on top or have some sort of sexual advantage—but he didn’t want to sit back nor do all the work, either. So when she began to arch against him in her paradise of orgasmic bliss, he knew this was going to be a long night. He tried to keep his rhythm so she could rise to cradle him, but he knew they both needed their release before someone went insane.

He grabbed her hips to hold her down and started seriously fucking. He was driving for his release as she screamed his name into the evening rain, chest arching and convulsing. The more and more he tried to coax himself to cum, the more and more he lapsed into talking.

“Oh, Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me. Now, now, now…come on…not yet…you like that? Do you? Hmm, pretty girl?”

She was going to be bruised tomorrow, bruised badly. As the moist crackle of wet sex filled the night air, she could feel herself begin to ripple along his slicked anatomy. Her nails scored the flesh along his back as she rose to cup his descent, only to be violent shoved down to the bed as he bent over her, pounding into her. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

He had built up, and flowed over the top as well. He picked up her hips and shoved himself as deep as he could inside her. They both called the other’s name as they completed the ancient ritual, spilling themselves into each other.

“Divadrin!”

“Leah!”

He let her fall back to earth as he took the last few strokes. He looked her in the eyes, surprised to see she was smiling. “Oh, that was…oh…do it…again…”

He decided to be kind. “I can’t. You’ll hafta wait a few minutes for my batteries to recharge.” This was a minor fib, since he had softened and begun to stiffen again already. He calmed himself down as she laughed. “I thought you were the Energizer Bunny of love.”

“You rabbit, you.”

He rolled off her and pulled her close, throwing a leg over her own to warm them both. She held him closer, relishing the full-body on full-body numbness he had involuntary invoked on her in their ravage. He had broken her clean and solid, and, true to his words, made up for it all with nice, creamy, newfound pleasure, pleasure she had embraced with a hesitant approach. She could feel it welling up inside her, and at last, she gave voice to it. \"I love you.\"

She cuddled to his warmth. \"I love you, Drin.\"

He clutched her more firmly to his naked body. \"I know.\"

She expected him to return the need, but he had shoved it past his lips, and she was too fragile to go digging for it. Maybe...it wasn\'t even there at all. \"No one else in the world, Drin, but you and me. I love you.\"

Her hand ghosted the skin across his back, feeling the notches where she had scratched him. She smiled; there was proof that she certainly wasn\'t trying to get him to stop, no matter how much she’d thought of it. She sniffled. \"Can\'t you feel it? I love you.\"

She drew in a hopeful breath, but she was greeted by silence. She let it out in disappointment, and shut her eyes.

\"I love you, too.\"

She looked up, and his hand steered her into eye contact. “I love you, too, Leah.”

She smiled in disbelief. “Say it again.”

“Glutton. I love you.”

She looked up at him, and began to cry as he said it again as he rolled on top of her, pressing their foreheads together. It was an odd sensation, but a sensation one could grow to like. And odder still was the fact that both of them were crying, smearing salt tracks against each other\'s cheeks as he began to make love to her again.

* * * * *

Lancelot never pried unless he sensed trouble, so when Anatole discovered he had come on such information, he was extremely surprised. The older boy had told him of Drin and Leah’s doings in the bedroom down the hall last night, and the blue-haired boy cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure?”

Lancelot led him into the laundry room, and dug around in the sheets. Then Anatole saw it; the bright red dot that stained the sheet Lancelot splayed before him was undenying proof. Proof of what? “Are you saying he screwed her bloody?” He suddenly became defensive.

“Not bloody.” Lancelot pointed to splotches of creamy white that accompanied the larger stain. “I’m saying she was a virgin, and the boy up there just popped her cherry.”

Anatole was in shock. “Leah? A virgin?”

“I thought so, too, after seeing she’s such a pretty little thing. But I guess he broke her morals, and here’s my proof.”

“Is she okay?” Anatole reached up to touch the sheet; the blood was dry. “He better not have hurt her, or…”

“I’ve already talked to him, and he’s seen the light. He’d rather not participate in the first ever manual castration. She’s fine, too, and if I’m not mistaken, I think she’s out by the porch, having her ‘day after’ private vigil with him.”

The boy smiled. “I knew you cared about her.”

“Jus as I would a little sister. I hate seeing anyone hurt over something they can’t control, or don’t want to control. I’m a To Kill A Mockingbird sucker.”

Anatole turned for the door, but Lancelot caught him. “Leave her be. She needs time to sort herself out.” His stroke became tender. “Just like you on our first time.”

Anatole could see where he was going, and shut the laundry room door. Lancelot had advanced on him until he was pressed against the door and nibbling at his neck. “You know…that was such a long time ago. I feel the need to relive the moment.”

“Hush, and let a man concentrate.”

Soon, Lancelot and Anatole’s seed joined the growing stain on the sheet, and no one ever bothered to wash it in the end. I guess you can never bleach true love.