cora + derek.

[instinct]

[ it starts in their bathroom. ]

[ derek doesn't jerk off much, and when he does, he doesn't use his hands. it's too — he doesn't like it, doesn't want to be touched, even by himself. he presses his dick between his thighs as he lays on his stomach and squeezes 'til it pops, or mounts the corner of his bed, fucks a pillow with gritted teeth. once he stole cora's vibrator, sniffing it out in her little bedroom, mouth going wet with the scent of it. ]

[ this time it's in the shower, eyes closed as he holds the detachable shower head over his groin, feet shifting apart a little so he can aim the hard spray behind his balls, then back to his dick again. the water is scalding, firm as a physical touch, and derek breathes hard, leans his forehead against the cool tile and closes his eyes, giving into the sensation. ]

[ he doesn't hear the bathroom door. but he hears cora's heartbeat pick up, scents her, and even as he turns with a slack mouth to see her standing there, he comes, streaking his hand and the shower head and the wall with creamy ropes. ]

Shit.

[ he whispers, stares at her, dazed, chest heaving and flushed from neck to navel, not sure what to do or say. he's humiliated, but he associates that with sex. ]

Comments

[instinct]

[ he watches her strip with — maybe a little judgement, but he's otherwise complacent, silent. he thinks his hands might be shaking a little, but he balls them up tight until they stop. ]

[ she presses her cunt up to his face again and he tips his head up and opens his mouth, obedient like this is something he's done a hundred times before. she's wet enough that he has to slurp at her, feels her slide slick across the planes of his face even as his tongue and lips work to pleasure her. ]

[ after a moment, he acknowledges the fact that she'd wanted his dick by lifting a hand, sliding two fingers straight up into her. she's tight, and it probably hurts, but he doesn't really care, just sinks them deep and lets her settle on them, gives her something else to work with as she rides his mouth. ]

[ his other hand slips into his jeans — to rearrange his erection, work it awkwardly down the seam of a thigh so that when he presses his legs together the fabric shifts over it, muscle flexing pressure over the head, making him grunt into her. ]

[sportsbra]

[ it's like driving a car; hands at ten and two, one behind her gripping the counter and the other fisted in his hair. she's trying not to pull, but he finger fucks her roughly and it's good, yes, fuck, it's so good. ] Sorry, [ cora says, but she's about the furthest thing from sorry a person can be.

a little pain edges the pleasure, but that's fine. after all, when are the hales not in some sort of anguish or another. she could lose herself a little between rutting against his face and clenching around his fingers. it's a newer feeling, and part of the reason this all feels so good. he's shifting, but she ultimately has no idea what he's doing to himself, if he's enjoying this, if he's having fun.

it's selfish, but she can and would worry about him later. when she's not slinging her knee over his shoulder and moaning loudly into the suffocatingly quiet apartment. ]

[instinct]

[ she moves, bracketing his head with her thigh, and he grunts at the shift in weight on his face, bringing his hand up to cora's ass to steady her. ]

[ now that he's got his dick taken care of, and she's balanced and open for him, derek flexes his wrist to fingerfuck her, a slow, steady in and out. the slick noise feels like it's the loudest thing in the room, and he speeds up to hear it, knuckles punching against her as he goes hard. ]

[ he's good at this, too. derek closes his eyes and breathes in cora, no-one else but cora, lets his guilt and shame and everything else drift somewhere away from here. there's nothing on his mind but pleasuring her, even at the expense of his own discomfort. ]

[sportsbra]

[ he's good at this.

too good at this, if that were a thing. he has her coming just as quickly as last time; quicker, actually. almost by surprise, and with a strangled sound escaping her throat because no, she hadn't wanted to come yet. there'd been so much to revel in, so much delicious arousal coiling in the pit of her stomach, and she wanted more. more and more, and all of this again and again.

but there's no staving off her orgasm with him between her legs. it's unfair and awful in the most wonderful sort of ways, and she swears revenge to herself as her eyelids flutter and her fingernails elongate and dig into the hard plastic of the counter. she needs something to root herself to the ground as he brings her to some orgasmic nirvana and back down again. ]

[instinct]

[ she shudders over him, convulsing around his fingers, but he doesn't stop, just fucks her through it. hard sucks slow to soft licking, lapping up the slickness of her, the come on his hand, cleaning her up even as he continues to thrust leisurely in and out of her. ]

[ cora might think it's over to soon; derek just straight up isn't done. ]

[ it's good, though, hearing her come. it makes him feel warm down to his bones, and he's riding high on the endorphins of obedience right now, too high to remember that he doesn't deserve to feel good. ]

[sportsbra]

[ their family is so off kilter, even the sex is dysfunctional. they've all got their walls up, but if she knew how high his went, how barbed it got — to the point he doesn't think he deserves to feel good at all? she'd cry. or scream at him, hug him, do anything in her admittedly limited communication arsenal to get across that he was wrong, that it wasn't true, and that he deserved this. he deserved everything he was giving her, in equal measure or if not more. ]

Derek. [ he deserved to keen like her. to shamelessly whimper, and shake like the world's ending. if she make him, reduce him to trembling right now, she should. but cora is too preoccupied clinging to the counter for dear life and squeezing her eyes shut. it's a full time job just to sort through her thoughts, to decide if she wants him to stop, or if she wants to grit her teeth and bare the overstimulation because maybe that would lead somewhere; rip an orgasm from her that was even sweeter than the last — one she never could have achieved on her own if she'd just stayed in bed and touched herself to explicit thoughts of her brother.

but there comes a point where overstimulation translates to pain and plain discomfort. it's with resignation that she reaches this point, and sighs; patting his head like she doesn't know how to touch him anymore. ] You — you can stop, alright? I can't — I just, I can't...

[instinct]

[ he presses one last kiss to her clit and pulls back, sliding his fingers out of her and licking them clean. his face is a mess, shiny and sticky with her juices, beard a little matted with it, and he looks up at her expectantly. ]

You could. I could lick your asshole instead.

[ it's an unabashed offer. he's not remotely ashamed of giving her pleasure- it's his own he's scared of. he's been thinking about lapping her out there, getting her wet enough that maybe he could move past his terrifying fear of getting her pregnant and fuck her there. ]

[sportsbra]

[ her whole body tenses; shoulders raise, eyebrows scrunch, and her biceps go taught. her fingers could probably crack the tile of counter if she gripped any tighter (and then either of them could make sandwiches without thinking of this instance again) but she needs something grounding as conflicting emotions flash through lust hazed eyes.

it's an enticing offer, but if she's perfectly honest (and cora's all about honesty with sex; and his inability to do that is 70% of the trouble she has sleeping with her brother) - ]

I don't know how I'd feel about that.

[instinct]

Just let me make you feel good, Cora.

[ he sounds impatient with her, like he's annoyed by the fact that she doesn't want to take the excesses he has to give. derek wants to wring himself dry pleasuring her. and his dick's hard, and his knees ache a little, and his jaw is tired from straining to keep his tongue on her, but he's rather be here than anywhere else in the world. ]

Or let me guess. You're going to start insisting it's my turn.

[sportsbra]

No - [ she insists, but there's a tangible lurch behind her gut, and cora scrunches her face in reconsideration. ] Okay, yes - maybe, but that's how it's supposed to go!

[ there's an ounce more bitterness than she means to slather on her words. but by now, she's long since a broken record, and there are only so many different ways to say the same thing, in vein hopes of hitting home. it's not a supposed to as in a societally imposed requirement; she'd never had a subscription to cosmopolitan, she just knew. knew that, in her admittedly compact sexual history, it was all just better when it was mutual.

she wasn't a selfish lover by nature. ] I don't understand your problem with it. It's like you're on autopilot and - and allergic to fun. [ anger is, however, in her nature. and honesty. and while this is somewhat of an odd choice of conversation venue, when else could they be honest with one another if they couldn't do it while her pants were down and the smell of sex and her come emanated from his mouth. ]

[instinct]

Maybe this is fun for me, ever think of that?

[ derek's sniping is half-hearted, though, looking away from her face. ]

[sportsbra]

It doesn't feel like you're having fun. [ it's okay, she can't quite look at him either, instead glancing off in the general direction of the fridge. ] It feels like a chore.