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

[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.