![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[Persona 4] "Literal Wank" - Entire Investigation Team
Summary: A collection of short pieces where the Investigation Team take matters into their own hands. The original request was for "more literal wank" after some drama on the P4 kink meme.
Length: 6800 words
Rating: M
Notes: Old fills from the original Persona 4 kink meme. Originally, I was only planning to write the first part, but then the rest just sort of happened. That is also why the first chapter differs a bit from the rest, which are strictly solo affairs.
1. Elegant (Yukiko)
2. Idol (Yosuke)
3. Trade-off (Naoto)
4. Dear Diary (Rise)
5. Light and Dark (Protagonist)
6. Apple (Kanji)
7. Daydream (Chie)
8. Killed the Cat (Teddie)
Yukiko is so elegant.
Even after all they have been through, Chie can't help but feel a little jealous. Yukiko with her flawless, pale skin - probably never even had a pimple in her entire life. Yukiko with her perfect breasts, her trim waist, her legs that seem to go on forever. Yukiko. Yukiko. But it's only for her benefit that Yukiko shows herself off, and it's...
It's the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.
Yukiko, naked, on her back on the bed, dark hair fanned out over the pillow.
So damn pretty that it makes her chest hurt.
Long, pale legs parted, and a hand moving slowly between them. Yukiko uses just one finger (and her fingers are also long and slender and elegant). Just one finger, dancing slowly, round and round.
Yukiko's eyes are closed, her head turned to the side. Her left hand lies by her hip, still. She doesn't play with her breasts (but she likes when Chie does it, when they're together), doesn't claw at the sheets, just stays still, looking fully in control even when she licks her lips and parts them and the slow rise and fall of her chest and stomach gradually increases. She pulls her legs up, braces her heels against the edge of the bed, and her smooth thighs ripple as muscles flex and relax, as her hips begin to move, meeting the movements of her hand. And the dance of that lone finger grows faster and wilder as she flicks and strokes, pushes and circles, and it sends a tiny drop rolling down, slowly disappearing in the dark cleft of her buttocks.
Chie holds her breath.
One finger becomes two, and they move together, teasing, pulling, pinching. The breath catches in Yukiko's throat and a shudder runs through her body, her fingers stopping just for a split second before continuing on, this time with a sense of urgency that wasn't there a moment before.
She seems to sob as she draws a deep breath, shudders again, and pushes with her legs, arching up.
Every line, every curve of her body is perfect.
Yukiko is elegant even when she comes, in complete silence. The only sign is the trembling tension in her arms and legs, barely visible.
So damn pretty.
Yukiko slowly lowers herself back down, straightens her legs, and lets out a sigh as her feet touch the floor once more.
It's Chie's cue to get up. She approaches and kneels between Yukiko's legs, leans down and rests her head on Yukiko's chest, listening to her heartbeat. It's strong and rapid, and she feels herself rise and fall as Yukiko breathes underneath her, her skin warm and soft and a little moist with sweat.
"Chie," whispers Yukiko, and traces meaningless patterns on her back with two slick fingers. "I want to see you, too."
"Wait," Chie whispers back, stroking Yukiko's lips lightly, and closes her eyes as she listens. "Just wait a little while longer."
When Yukiko's left arm comes up around her waist, she knows that her request is granted.
He shook hands with Risette.
He can still feel her hand against his, soft and warm.
It's all he can think about when he heads back home. Risette. In Inaba. Risette, in Inaba. And he had touched her.
It doesn't matter if she's depressed, or if she's sick, or whatever the hell is wrong with her. She's still the little pigtailed cutie he and every red-blooded male in the country has been lusting after since her debut. Ri-fucking-sette.
There's nobody home, but he still locks his door, and closes the blinds as he pulls his shirt off, then drops carelessly on his unmade bed.
He licks his fingers, imagines her smaller, softer ones against his tongue. He thinks he can taste her, faintly, smell her perfume. It was something... something cheap, like... something you'd get from Junes. He had been surprised. A generic "red berries" kind of scent, where no one could ever hope to identify just what kind of berries they meant.
But it smells like Risette. He knows that now.
He fumbles with his belt, kicks his pants off. Drags his right hand down, fingers leaving a wet trail over his chest. Imagines what she'd look like if she felt his abs and the light trail of hair leading down, tickling her palm.
She'd look pleasantly surprised when she pulled his boxers down, a little impressed even. Kinda like, 'Ooh, look at this.' And she'd lick her lips. Red, soft, full lips, all wet.
Then she'd wrap her hand around his dick. Just like this. (He turns it a little awkwardly, so his thumb and index finger circle the base of it, the way she'd hold him if she was standing in front of him right now.)
He groans and tightens his grip, but Risette wouldn't be so forceful. Her touch would be light and careful, but confident, like... yeah, like that. Back and forth, and she'd twist and turn her hand as she stroked, make sure she was rubbing him everywhere. And then she'd look up and go like, 'Do you like this? Am I doing it right?'
"Fuck yeah," he grunts between his teeth, screws his eyes shut and tries to see it clearer. She'd be kneeling, he decides, as he speeds up. On her knees and looking up at him, both innocent and devious at the same time.
'Because, Yosuke-kun, it's my first time... you'll have to teach me.'
He grits his teeth as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, then his cheek. His hand (Risette's hand) pumps faster and faster, gripping his throbbing shaft tightly.
"Faster," he hisses, "faster, Risette." Yeah, that's good. His palm is sticky (but it's Risette's palm) with precome, and he feels the familiar tightening in his balls that means he's getting close. His shaft throbs and buzzes with electric pleasure, spreading out through his body, building until he can't take it anymore.
He groans as he spurts jet after jet of hot, sticky come over his chest and stomach, and switches hands, continues to stroke his dick with his left, still imagining Risette's hand instead of his right as he uses it to smear the sticky mess over his skin. Imagines her licking her fingers, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Sucking her fingers. Wow. And she'd be impressed that he's still hard. 'Next time, I want you to come all over me. Can you do that for Risette?'
He feels sweat rolling off him as he wraps his sticky fingers (Risette's sticky fingers!) around his erection again and feels the tension rising again as he gets closer and closer.
It doesn't take long before he's ready to come again, and it feels just as good even though it's just a few drops this time, dribbling over his fingers. In his mind, he's shooting another huge load, all over Risette's face and tits.
The mental image sputters out together with the orgasm, and he feels drained and empty when it's finally over. He slowly relaxes his grip on his softening cock and looks down at his hand. Because it's his hand, not Risette's. And he keeps remembering the sad look on her face, and he suddenly feels... kind of dirty, and it's not just because he came all over himself.
He wipes it off with a sock and showers, and once he has scrubbed off the sweat and stuff, he gathers all his old Risette posters and photo collections and throws them in the trash, deletes the bookmarks and the videos he had saved. Even the really rare upskirt one where you can see a tiny little bit of pubes (though it's more likely an artefact from the video compression, because it's pretty awful) because her panties are a little twisted after a particularly long dance number, the one the record company had made such an effort to get taken off the web. It goes in the trash bin, and then he empties it manually.
He feels a little better afterward.
Just a little.
One of the guys is big and built and has blonde hair down to his waist. He looks like he should be in a metal band that sings about dragons.
The other one looks kind of like her. Like a guy version of her, short and slender. His hair is brown, but it's about the same length.
It's obvious from the start who tops, but she doesn't really care. It's not like she identifies with either one of them. She'd need something else for that.
She has wondered, ever since she was rescued, what would have happened if the shadow had its way with her. Considering the equipment, she'd be in pieces, little chunks littering the room, but she could feel the power inside her, light and dark and power, and if that was possible - maybe something else would have been possible, too.
She's supposed to be resting, but she gets bored and horny, and her laptop is never far away. Now it's sitting next to her in the bed while she half lies, half sits propped up against a pillow, biting her lip as one hand works inside her panties and the other clutches at her chest - fine, at her breasts.
The film is running in fullscreen mode in typical grainy internet quality. The brunette is sucking off the blonde. She wonders what it would feel like, pulls at her clit and winces as she bites down harder on her lip and her legs shake at the sudden, almost painful sensation. If she had a penis - no, it's dry and clinical, if she had a cock, a thick, hard cock, just like that guy, so thick that she could barely wrap her hand around it... if she didn't have these heavy things on her chest.
She digs her fingers in, squeezes a breast until it hurts, until she's sure she'll have bruises in the morning, and groans as the pain mingles with the slow, hot sensation curling its way up her spine.
She wouldn't have these, but then she'd never feel this sensation, either. And her nipples, they wouldn't be as sensitive, probably... She moves her hand a bit and twists, and another jolt of pain shoots through her and adds to the liquid heat pooling in her belly.
On the screen, the blonde pushes over the brunette and gets into position behind him. She assumes they have lube applied already, because the big guy pushes into the smaller one without any kind of preparation, and the brunette just grunts and strokes himself as the blonde picks up the pace. The camera slides around them and zooms in on the action, the blonde's thick cock spreading the brunette's ass wide, and the brunette's hand wrapped around his own cock, not much smaller than his partner's.
Her breath hisses between her teeth, and she lets go of her breast to wipe sweat from her brow and push the hair out of her eyes. Her other hand picks up the pace below, fingers moving quickly from side to side. It's easier now, she's wetter and more aroused, the stimulation feels better, but she still wants more, wishes she had something thick she could stuff inside herself, so she could feel it just like the guy on the screen.
The blonde has pulled his partner up and holds him around the chest and waist with his left arm (it's thicker than her thigh) while he pumps the brunette's cock with his right hand. And the brunette is holding on to the blonde's hips behind him, as if he's trying to urge him on, as if he wants it faster and harder.
She moves a bit, hand seeking her other breast, twists the nipple hard and her vision flickers a bit. She sinks two fingers inside herself, but it's not enough; a third joins them and she thrusts deep, as deep as she can reach, until her palm comes down on her clit. Her hips buck up to meet it and she pulls back, only to thrust in again, and she hears the muted smack of flesh on flesh.
The brunette ejaculates, groaning as he shoots long stringy jets over the wooden floor, but some of it drips on the blonde's fingers. He raises his hand, and the brunette licks it clean.
She narrows her eyes, holds her breath as she speeds up, until she can even hear the slick, slippery noises of her fingers thrusting in and out of her, and her senses begin slipping away. The last thing she sees before she has to close her eyes is the blonde pulling out and rising just in time to shoot his load over the brunette's face, and then she no longer cares.
She imagines a cock between her legs, spurting high into the air as she comes and clenches down on the three fingers inside her, but even in her imagination, the come spatters on her tits, not a man's hard, flat chest.
She keeps moving, keeps coming, for what feels like a long time, before opening her eyes once more. The computer is silent, the film is over.
She pulls her fingers out, slowly, wipes them on the blanket (she'll have to change it anyway) and reaches for the computer. Click. Play again.
It's back to the blowjob again, and Naoto returns her right hand to the wet spot between her legs.
Man or woman, she's not sure it matters. But since it's not up to her either way, she'll just have to make do.
It's not as if this form is without advantages, she thinks as she begins to circle her aching clit with one finger.
At least this body is always ready for a second round.
It's probably a good trade-off
Dear Diary: I met the cutest guy today.
Rise sucks on her pen and rests her chin on her arms, waggles her feet in the air. She doesn't have a diary. She used to, when she was like... seven? Something like that. But she knows that it would be all over the net the moment someone decides to break into her room, and it will happen (at least usually they just steal panties, which is kind of creepy, but at least nothing personal). Speculation in the media. Who is that cute grey-haired boy she's talking about?
She'd like to know, too. She only met him once. He looked so... serious. And cute. Rise doesn't mean 'cute' as in a lost puppy, she means cute, as in oh, the things I'd do to that guy if I had him here in bed with me.
They were all cute, really. The nervous one with the headphones wasn't too bad, but he seemed like the kind of guy who probably masturbates to her photo books, and that always makes it awkward. The tall one with the bleached hair looked scary, but he was kind of nice. But the last one...
She supposes she should feel a bit guilty, but it's not like she knows him. And the internet is full of fake pics with her head pasted on some saggy-chested porn star. She has earned the right to fantasize about real guys.
She had brushed his hand when she handed him his bag. His fingers were a little rough. Texture, Rise. Just imagine the possibilities. She eases a hand in underneath her body and strokes herself through skirt and panties. Even that is enough to fire up the fizzy, glowy sensation that spreads out from that place, up her spine, down her legs, out through her arms. Mmmm.
She pulls the skirt up, bunches it uncomfortably over her hips, and slides her hand back down again. Just her panties now. Plain, white cotton, no ribbons or tassels or anything fancy, just smooth, comfy white cloth, already kind of moist under her finger. She giggles. It's been a long time since she had time to just... do things.
She thinks she's bisexual. She likes guys, but there's something about girls too, the softness of their bodies... well, the softness of her body, she has never had a chance to experiment, but she thinks other girls wouldn't be too different. Even if it didn't send little tingling shocks through her body, she'd enjoy petting that area, so soft and nice even through the barrier of cloth.
She shakes her head, raises her butt in the air and shoves the panties down. Keeps the skirt on, just in case. She's kind of paranoid even now, that someone would peek through the window, or... or something.
Stop thinking. Think about that guy. His gentle eyes. Mmm. Yeah, like that! And his fingers. I think his fingers would be gentle, too.
She's smooth down there, still shaves out of habit. An idol has to be perfect and baby-like. Shut up shut up shut up! Not now. A finger finds her clit and gives a tentative little rub, and she gasps into the pillow. Yes. This is more like it...
He should smile a bit. Yeah, he's smiling in her mind. It's a pretty smile. Like he'd do this because he cares about her, not just because he wants to fuck an idol.
She closes her eyes and buries her face in the pillow. Just fingers, without any ulterior motives or compulsion. Yes. She could live with that.
Maybe he would give her a little kiss, too. Down... there. It breaks the illusion a bit, her fingers can't simulate kissing well enough. Back to fingers, then. She can imagine the slight roughness, that's no problem, and a steady, confident, gentle touch. Mmmmmmmm...
Her spine lights up as tension begins to pool low in her stomach, and she arches her back, pressing her breasts harder into the mattress, raising her butt in the air. Almost... almost-
It's kind of disappointing when she does come. It's nice, but it melts away too quickly, and then she slumps in the bed, hugging the pillow. That's not anything like hugging a guy. He would be kind of hard, and he'd smell kind of raw and dangerous, not like her grandma's detergent.
She sighs and rolls over on her back. This is bad. She has never crushed this hard on a guy she has barely even spoken to before. The last time she even fantasized about a guy was years ago, and it was... an idol, a rock singer. Ugh. Just like the rest of them, huh?
But the image of that one guy stays with her, and she smiles. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
If she sees him again, she'll try to get his number.
He remembers dreaming of light and dark.
If he puts it like that, it sounds almost acceptable.
Except that light and dark makes him wake up with a raging erection that just won't go down.
Light is represented by an angel, pure white wings, golden hair. Dark is the lilim, with her dark hair and bat-like, leathery wings. The demon girl is holding the angel from behind, one arm around her neck, the other hand's fingers rapidly moving between her thighs, making delightful wet, soppy noises. The angel whimpers and pleads, but the lilim gives her no respite.
The image is rich and vivid, and there's no way he can go down and eat breakfast like this. He'll have to take matters in his own hands.
Literally.
His cock aches, straining against the tight confines of his boxers. He feels as if he's going to come the moment he pulls it free and wraps his fingers around it. Thick and throbbing, hard and sensitive.
After just a couple of strokes, the tip of it glitters with precome. He closes his eyes and moves his hand faster. In his mind's eye, Lilim pulls Angel's hair, makes the white-winged girl arch back sharply. She has tied the blonde's arms with the leather strips of her own outfit, and the angel is defenceless. Her wings beat uselessly and her voice rises in pitch as Lilim slaps her exposed sex, once, twice, then shoves four fingers inside and grinds her thumb against the angel's clit.
He grits his teeth, tightens his grasp. His dick is rock hard, doesn't yield, just throbs hotly against his palm. Precome dribbles down his knuckles and he drops his left hand to wrap around the root of his cock, cup his balls and stroke the area below.
The angel comes, gushing all over the demoness' fingers. Lilim's face twists into a cruel grin, and she thrusts her tail... deep.
The angel screams, and he's not sure if it's in pain, pleasure or both. It echoes in his ears as he arches up off the bed and covers his stomach and chest with hot, sticky fluid, even as the angel convulses and comes again, squeezing down on the little devil's tail.
It's a complete mess, both on top of him and in his head. He feels numb and blank as he cleans up the visible mess, making a note to do something about the rest as soon as school ends.
Later that day, it seems like Igor smiles knowingly as he trades the two personas in for a rather less sexy Omoikane.
But judging by his dreams the following night, it doesn't seem like that was one of his better ideas, either.
He had tried porn, and come to the conclusion that he didn't care much for it.
It wasn't as if that presented much of a problem, though. Advertising material for textiles invariably featured women, and they tended to be much prettier than the girls in porn. It was a lot more fun when they were covered up, too, when he could see the general shapes but had to fill in the rest on his own.
'sides, the women in the catalogues were always smiling, and it's kind of hard to do that around a mouthful of dick.
His favourite image was in an old, beat-up collection of knitting instructions, a photo covering an entire page, of a woman reaching for a big, red apple hanging from a tree. The position pulled her knitted sweater up a little and bared a bit of her midriff, and wow. He still to this day couldn't look at that picture without... well, reacting in a very obvious manner. So he never took it out unless he was sure he would have time to finish his business.
He sprawled on the floor with the catalogue in front of him, slowly getting into the mood. He imagined standing behind her - that girl, a Western woman, rather tall, with blonde hair (not quite as light as his, but it looked like her natural colour) and green eyes. The sweater was 'autumn-inspired', with brown and faded red and yellow patterns, and hugged her figure in a most alluring manner. She had blue jeans below, and they, too, were snug around the hips and showed off her legs. She never moved in his fantasies, just remained in that position, reaching up for an apple she couldn't quite touch, and he held on to her hips, fingers dancing over that little strip of exposed skin. He could feel her breathe, and laugh softly as he tickled her, and her hair fluttered in the wind, but she remained still, her right arm raised, left held out a little to the side.
He didn't really need to look at the picture anymore - it was etched firmly into his memory. His eyes were open, but he stared through it. He had to be careful not to finish too soon. It wasn't the final burst that interested him - that was more like an epilogue, satisfying in its own way, but it was nothing without the journey leading up to it.
In his mind, he let his hands wander slowly higher. The woman was soft, the sweater was soft. There was something special about a woman in a hand-knitted sweater, even if he knew that the model probably hadn't had anything to do with the actual creation process.
He could feel his erection strain against her ass, and his hand pressed down, angling it down toward his leg, somewhat simulating that sensation. He shifted his legs and lowered his body a bit, and was able to slide in between her thighs and feel her heat through the cloth. His hands reached her breasts, and they were softer than anything else he had ever touched. They were definitely bigger than average, and their shape was perfect and he could feel her nipples through the sweater, little nubs of flesh hardening at his touch...
He groaned and grasped the base of his cock tightly as a spasm ran through his body and a few drops of cloudy liquid dripped from the tip. Close. That part always got to him. He stood still in his imagination, too. The woman's thighs clamped down on him like a vice, even though they were soft and smooth.
He rolled over on his back as he slowly started stroking himself again, closed his eyes and brought his other hand up to his chest. His nipples were hard, too, even if they were smaller than that girl's. He rolled them between his fingers, alternating back and forth as the scene continued.
The girl's body trembled as he began to slide back and forth between her legs and played with her breasts through the sweater. She was getting off on it as much as he was, but she still held that position, didn't lower her hand, didn't thrust back against him. But it was all right with him to do all the work. He nuzzled her neck, pulled the collar of the sweater down with his teeth and sucked at her smooth, pink skin.
He began to thrust his hips in reality, too, meeting each stroke of his hand. Close again. Really close.
He was close, but so was she. He sped up, sliding his length against her, and she moaned, the first sound she made, just before...
The scene and reality flowed into each other seamlessly. He came, soaking her jeans, dripping on the grass below. The girl came, shuddering against him, still trying to hold that pose but having more and more trouble doing it; now she even had to meet his movements with her hips, and her ass smacked against his hips with every thrust. And he came, feeling his dick twitch in his grasp, feeling the hot spurts on his stomach.
He continued stroking himself even after it was over, kept his eyes closed, because he wasn't finished yet. The scene played out as it always did. He let go of her, pulled back and plucked the apple from the tree, put it in her outstretched hand, and only then did he allow himself to open his eyes.
Cleaning up was a pain, but his method wasn't without advantages. At least, he never had to worry about hiding the porn.
It's a little embarrassing to have fantasies about people she knows, but it's not as if she can help it. Just a look from the calm, piercing eyes under that grey fringe of hair makes her knees weak.
It's ridiculous. She has never felt anything like this before. Maybe it's something in the water. Or maybe she's just making excuses. All she knows is that it's a good thing Rise can't read minds, because she keeps randomly spacing out in the middle of the day, just thinking about him.
When she comes home, she has to change her panties, because holy crap. And when she says "change", she means take off the ones she's wearing and not put on any new ones for a good long time.
It is ridiculous. And it feels great. Her fingers glide so easily, her skin is so sensitive, she almost comes the moment she makes contact. Hell, she almost comes just from the friction between her thighs as she walks home.
She bets he'd be the type to take charge in bed, too. She's usually the strong one, so it's kind of exciting to imagine being on the "bottom". On her back (just like now, on her futon, with her legs spread, except that it wouldn't just be her fingers moving between them), with him kneeling, preparing her with his fingers. He may be in charge, but that doesn't make him a bad guy, so he'd take care and make sure she's ready before he does anything else. Although he really wouldn't have to worry about her not being wet enough, because... oh, wow. It feels like she could slip her fingers inside purely by accident, she's that slippery. Two fingers, okay, that's good. His fingers are thicker than hers, so she'd feel them a little more, but still. Hell, he'd probably just use one to begin with. Anyway. And another finger there at the top... oooh. She'd come before he even got to do anything. Good thing she's a girl. (And then she really does come, clamping down on her fingers, legs shaking, toes curling, the works.)
And then. And then. She shakes the fuzz from her head. Then, when he's sure she's ready for it...
She slowly eases a third finger inside. He's probably big. Not huge, painful big, but... big. More than just her three fingers, anyway. She likes to imagine that his dick curves up a little, so he can do just what she's doing when she angles her fingers towards her bellybutton.
She comes again when she finds the spot, bites her lip in an effort to keep quiet. She pulls her fingers out and holds her hand up so she can admire the way her skin glistens. Juuuust... like that...
She brings that hand up to her lips and imagines that it's him she's tasting when she licks a clear drop from one finger. She's so horny she could just explode. Oh! Right. Her breasts. Can't be bothered to take the bra off. She pulls it up and tweaks small, dark nipples with her slippery fingers while her other hand works between her legs. Not quite enough. She looks around and spots a hairbrush on a table - sits up and lunges for it, and just barely manages to pull it close enough to grab. Smooth plastic. Perfect.
She licks her lips, tastes salty sweat and a faint tinge of her own arousal as she positions it. The handle slides in almost without resistance, and she pulls her legs up, manages to wedge the brush against the back of her heel so she can thrust awkwardly against it. She needs more hands, one on her tits, one on her clit, that leaves another eight or so to touch everything else she wants touched. He could help with that. He'd be bigger than the brush, too, and warmer, and kind of soft over the hard, and he'd reach deep inside her... and his hands. Oh, his hands.
She whimpers as a familiar shudder runs through her, but she doesn't come, not this time. Something's missing. Oh yeah, if he's on top of her, he should be able to suck her nipples. Wow, it looks hot. She can just picture it. Lips. Nice, soft lips. Teeth, just a little. And a hot, wet, strong tongue behind it all. She can just feel it -
Until flashes of light go off in her head and the sensation bursting out through her entire body drowns out everything else.
That was - three? I think? Never mind. Her fingers are already moving again. She's sweating, her shirt clings to her back and shoulders, she feels little drops running off her body. If he was here, he'd be able to lick them off her. (She uses a finger, warm and wet with her own slick, and imagines that it would feel something like that.)
If she had him here, on top of her, she would run her hands over his back and shoulders. He probably wouldn't mind if she used her nails a little. But lacking that available back or shoulders, she rakes her short, blunt nails over her own skin instead. The inside of her thigh, and up. Across her hip, and up. Over her stomach, and up. She reaches a breast and squeezes, pinches the nipple a little harder than she did before, bucks her hips a little too far and the brush handle slips out. She almost hyperventilates as she sits up and fumbles to get it into position again, to align it just right.
She had been so close, felt so desperate, but it doesn't take long to build up that sensation again, and she laughs breathlessly when it sweeps her away again, for the - what, fourth time? Who knows? Who cares? She lies still, panting, when the last fireworks fade away, and stares up at the ceiling. Wow. But when she moves her hand a bit, she brushes against her clit again and it sends a jolt through her body. It's not an ouch, I think I overdid it kind of sensation. More like an I could keep this up one.
She giggles, a disturbingly girly noise, and slowly begins to stroke the aching little bud between her legs once more.
Guess that will be f, five, then? Let's go for five, five is a nice number- She licks her lips again; they're dry. Here we go. Here - we - ooh.
She's almost too sensitive to continue. Every little touch is like an electric shock. She can't rub and pinch the way she did before; the sensation just overloads her senses and leaves her numb. No. Calm and gentle, calm and gentle... Somewhere along the way, the brush handle has slipped out again. This time, she doesn't put it back. This would be - would be later, right, so he'd already have...
Already have come. She shivers as she imagines - she's not sure what it would feel like, but it should be something like a gush of warmth, yes oh yes, and his thing would twitch inside her...
...then he would pull out. And because he's not a bad guy, he'd make sure she got off one last time. With his tongue. Probably. Yeah, she can imagine that finger being a tongue. Soft, hot, wet. Mmm.
A tongue would flick up and down like so...
- oh. Oh. Oh. Yes -
She doesn't have the energy left to toss and turn. The sensation is fizzy as it runs through her, as if it's fraying at the edges. Her mind goes blank. There are no fireworks before her eyes this time. If the earth moves, it's just a tiny aftershock, insignificant after the real quake. But it leaves her feeling satisfied and calm - almost unconscious. She closes her eyes and has no idea how long she's lying there as the sweat cools on her body.
Eventually she gets up, wobbling as she strips herself of the sweat-soaked clothes, disposes of them in the laundry basket and stumbles into the bathroom for a nice hot shower.
It is embarrassing to have fantasies about people she knows, but she just can't help it.
Detective Dojima is simply too damn sexy for his own good.
The human body was full of curious features.
Chie-chan had told him that 'curiosity killed the cat', but she hadn't said anything about bears, or people, or even people who used to be bears, so he figured he was going to be just fine. The only thing he had in common with cats was his fuzzy fur, and this body didn't have a lot of that anyway.
The ears held his attention for a while, especially after he learned to waggle them. The nose, too, even if it was mostly inferior to even his old, worn-out one. He had spent hours in front of a mirror poking and prodding himself and making strange faces until Yosuke told him his face would freeze like that.
That still left the entire rest of his body, but Chie-chan and Yuki-chan had made it very clear that he was not to show himself to others unless he was fully dressed. Well, Chie-chan had made some very graphic threats when telling him what she was going to do if she found him walking around without wearing at least a shirt and a pair of pants, and then Yuki-chan had folded over laughing, but Chie-chan had told him she would have agreed if she only remembered how to speak.
He had been able to go to the bathroom on his own, but the bits involved seemed so needlessly complicated. Well, the one on front, anyway. He had tried to ask Yosuke, but didn't get much of an answer, and it only made him more curious.
So even though he was supposed to take a bath, he had only got as far as to sit down in the tub before certain things caught his attention.
It was kind of floppy. It was convenient for aiming, but that thing hanging underneath was very confusing and didn't seem to be good for much. Yosuke had muttered something about 'family jewels' but he wasn't going to fall for that. Jewels were shiny and sparkly, not pink and fleshy and fuzzy. It was probably one of those metaphor things Rise-chan had told him about.
The tip of the thing was really complicated, too. Especially that part that could be pulled back and forth over that other part. Back and forth. Back and forth. He wondered if it was supposed to transform or something.
Back and forth, back and forth.
It felt kind of funny. It looked kind of funny, too, with that purple bit disappearing under the pink bit and peeking out again.
It felt really funny. Kind of... fuzzy, except on the inside. And then -
Teddie's eyes went wide and round.
"Wow," he said to himself, echoing slightly in the silent bathroom. "It never did that before!"
It felt even funnier now. Funny in the same way fizzy soda was funny. It wasn't like anything else he had ever felt, but it wasn't bad, actually... kind of like the way you couldn't just drink one gulp of melon soda. You had to keep going until the can was empty, because anything else was A Waste of Resources, and that was Bad. (Rise-chan had told him that.)
Whatever he was doing, it definitely didn't feel as if the can was empty yet. And it was a lot easier to keep his grip now.
He kept going, and it was kind of like the way the second gulp of melon soda tastes better than the first, but not as good as the third.
And this might even be better than melon soda, he realized as his hand began to move faster, apparently without any direct orders from his brain.
After a while, there was a... building kind of sensation down there.
He bent forward to see if something else had change, but everything seemed to be the same...
Suddenly, it felt like things kind of discharged and exploded down there, and something warm, wet and slimy hit him in the face.
Teddie started, flailed around a bit with his free hand, fell over backwards in the tub and hit his head with a loud clang.
He was still lying there when Yosuke knocked on the door and asked if he was all right. When he didn't manage to say anything, the door opened, and Yosuke leaned in over the tub.
And froze.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"Yosuke!" Teddie squeaked, still holding on to his thing, and shook it in Yosuke's general direction. (It was a lot more floppy than it had been the last time he looked.) "I was just - and - and something came out! And it wasn't pee! Is it supposed to do that? Am I... am I going to die now?" His lower lip quivered.
Yosuke facepalmed with great enthusiasm. "Not unless I kill you myself." His gaze flitted down, then up again, and he repeated the process - only this time with both hands.
"This is so not fair," he groaned, before lowering his hands and glaring down at Teddie, who was looking back up with wide, innocent eyes. And a lot of gunk on his face.
"Just... just wash up," Yosuke said, and seemed to deflate.
He slammed the door behind him when he went.
Teddie sat up and rubbed his aching head. Yosuke sure wasn't being very friendly, all of a sudden.
He made a note to ask Sensei about this the next time they met up at Junes.
Length: 6800 words
Rating: M
Notes: Old fills from the original Persona 4 kink meme. Originally, I was only planning to write the first part, but then the rest just sort of happened. That is also why the first chapter differs a bit from the rest, which are strictly solo affairs.
1. Elegant (Yukiko)
2. Idol (Yosuke)
3. Trade-off (Naoto)
4. Dear Diary (Rise)
5. Light and Dark (Protagonist)
6. Apple (Kanji)
7. Daydream (Chie)
8. Killed the Cat (Teddie)
1. Elegant (Yukiko)
Yukiko is so elegant.
Even after all they have been through, Chie can't help but feel a little jealous. Yukiko with her flawless, pale skin - probably never even had a pimple in her entire life. Yukiko with her perfect breasts, her trim waist, her legs that seem to go on forever. Yukiko. Yukiko. But it's only for her benefit that Yukiko shows herself off, and it's...
It's the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.
Yukiko, naked, on her back on the bed, dark hair fanned out over the pillow.
So damn pretty that it makes her chest hurt.
Long, pale legs parted, and a hand moving slowly between them. Yukiko uses just one finger (and her fingers are also long and slender and elegant). Just one finger, dancing slowly, round and round.
Yukiko's eyes are closed, her head turned to the side. Her left hand lies by her hip, still. She doesn't play with her breasts (but she likes when Chie does it, when they're together), doesn't claw at the sheets, just stays still, looking fully in control even when she licks her lips and parts them and the slow rise and fall of her chest and stomach gradually increases. She pulls her legs up, braces her heels against the edge of the bed, and her smooth thighs ripple as muscles flex and relax, as her hips begin to move, meeting the movements of her hand. And the dance of that lone finger grows faster and wilder as she flicks and strokes, pushes and circles, and it sends a tiny drop rolling down, slowly disappearing in the dark cleft of her buttocks.
Chie holds her breath.
One finger becomes two, and they move together, teasing, pulling, pinching. The breath catches in Yukiko's throat and a shudder runs through her body, her fingers stopping just for a split second before continuing on, this time with a sense of urgency that wasn't there a moment before.
She seems to sob as she draws a deep breath, shudders again, and pushes with her legs, arching up.
Every line, every curve of her body is perfect.
Yukiko is elegant even when she comes, in complete silence. The only sign is the trembling tension in her arms and legs, barely visible.
So damn pretty.
Yukiko slowly lowers herself back down, straightens her legs, and lets out a sigh as her feet touch the floor once more.
It's Chie's cue to get up. She approaches and kneels between Yukiko's legs, leans down and rests her head on Yukiko's chest, listening to her heartbeat. It's strong and rapid, and she feels herself rise and fall as Yukiko breathes underneath her, her skin warm and soft and a little moist with sweat.
"Chie," whispers Yukiko, and traces meaningless patterns on her back with two slick fingers. "I want to see you, too."
"Wait," Chie whispers back, stroking Yukiko's lips lightly, and closes her eyes as she listens. "Just wait a little while longer."
When Yukiko's left arm comes up around her waist, she knows that her request is granted.
2. Idol (Yosuke)
He shook hands with Risette.
He can still feel her hand against his, soft and warm.
It's all he can think about when he heads back home. Risette. In Inaba. Risette, in Inaba. And he had touched her.
It doesn't matter if she's depressed, or if she's sick, or whatever the hell is wrong with her. She's still the little pigtailed cutie he and every red-blooded male in the country has been lusting after since her debut. Ri-fucking-sette.
There's nobody home, but he still locks his door, and closes the blinds as he pulls his shirt off, then drops carelessly on his unmade bed.
He licks his fingers, imagines her smaller, softer ones against his tongue. He thinks he can taste her, faintly, smell her perfume. It was something... something cheap, like... something you'd get from Junes. He had been surprised. A generic "red berries" kind of scent, where no one could ever hope to identify just what kind of berries they meant.
But it smells like Risette. He knows that now.
He fumbles with his belt, kicks his pants off. Drags his right hand down, fingers leaving a wet trail over his chest. Imagines what she'd look like if she felt his abs and the light trail of hair leading down, tickling her palm.
She'd look pleasantly surprised when she pulled his boxers down, a little impressed even. Kinda like, 'Ooh, look at this.' And she'd lick her lips. Red, soft, full lips, all wet.
Then she'd wrap her hand around his dick. Just like this. (He turns it a little awkwardly, so his thumb and index finger circle the base of it, the way she'd hold him if she was standing in front of him right now.)
He groans and tightens his grip, but Risette wouldn't be so forceful. Her touch would be light and careful, but confident, like... yeah, like that. Back and forth, and she'd twist and turn her hand as she stroked, make sure she was rubbing him everywhere. And then she'd look up and go like, 'Do you like this? Am I doing it right?'
"Fuck yeah," he grunts between his teeth, screws his eyes shut and tries to see it clearer. She'd be kneeling, he decides, as he speeds up. On her knees and looking up at him, both innocent and devious at the same time.
'Because, Yosuke-kun, it's my first time... you'll have to teach me.'
He grits his teeth as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, then his cheek. His hand (Risette's hand) pumps faster and faster, gripping his throbbing shaft tightly.
"Faster," he hisses, "faster, Risette." Yeah, that's good. His palm is sticky (but it's Risette's palm) with precome, and he feels the familiar tightening in his balls that means he's getting close. His shaft throbs and buzzes with electric pleasure, spreading out through his body, building until he can't take it anymore.
He groans as he spurts jet after jet of hot, sticky come over his chest and stomach, and switches hands, continues to stroke his dick with his left, still imagining Risette's hand instead of his right as he uses it to smear the sticky mess over his skin. Imagines her licking her fingers, fluttering her eyelashes at him. Sucking her fingers. Wow. And she'd be impressed that he's still hard. 'Next time, I want you to come all over me. Can you do that for Risette?'
He feels sweat rolling off him as he wraps his sticky fingers (Risette's sticky fingers!) around his erection again and feels the tension rising again as he gets closer and closer.
It doesn't take long before he's ready to come again, and it feels just as good even though it's just a few drops this time, dribbling over his fingers. In his mind, he's shooting another huge load, all over Risette's face and tits.
The mental image sputters out together with the orgasm, and he feels drained and empty when it's finally over. He slowly relaxes his grip on his softening cock and looks down at his hand. Because it's his hand, not Risette's. And he keeps remembering the sad look on her face, and he suddenly feels... kind of dirty, and it's not just because he came all over himself.
He wipes it off with a sock and showers, and once he has scrubbed off the sweat and stuff, he gathers all his old Risette posters and photo collections and throws them in the trash, deletes the bookmarks and the videos he had saved. Even the really rare upskirt one where you can see a tiny little bit of pubes (though it's more likely an artefact from the video compression, because it's pretty awful) because her panties are a little twisted after a particularly long dance number, the one the record company had made such an effort to get taken off the web. It goes in the trash bin, and then he empties it manually.
He feels a little better afterward.
Just a little.
3. Trade-off (Naoto)
One of the guys is big and built and has blonde hair down to his waist. He looks like he should be in a metal band that sings about dragons.
The other one looks kind of like her. Like a guy version of her, short and slender. His hair is brown, but it's about the same length.
It's obvious from the start who tops, but she doesn't really care. It's not like she identifies with either one of them. She'd need something else for that.
She has wondered, ever since she was rescued, what would have happened if the shadow had its way with her. Considering the equipment, she'd be in pieces, little chunks littering the room, but she could feel the power inside her, light and dark and power, and if that was possible - maybe something else would have been possible, too.
She's supposed to be resting, but she gets bored and horny, and her laptop is never far away. Now it's sitting next to her in the bed while she half lies, half sits propped up against a pillow, biting her lip as one hand works inside her panties and the other clutches at her chest - fine, at her breasts.
The film is running in fullscreen mode in typical grainy internet quality. The brunette is sucking off the blonde. She wonders what it would feel like, pulls at her clit and winces as she bites down harder on her lip and her legs shake at the sudden, almost painful sensation. If she had a penis - no, it's dry and clinical, if she had a cock, a thick, hard cock, just like that guy, so thick that she could barely wrap her hand around it... if she didn't have these heavy things on her chest.
She digs her fingers in, squeezes a breast until it hurts, until she's sure she'll have bruises in the morning, and groans as the pain mingles with the slow, hot sensation curling its way up her spine.
She wouldn't have these, but then she'd never feel this sensation, either. And her nipples, they wouldn't be as sensitive, probably... She moves her hand a bit and twists, and another jolt of pain shoots through her and adds to the liquid heat pooling in her belly.
On the screen, the blonde pushes over the brunette and gets into position behind him. She assumes they have lube applied already, because the big guy pushes into the smaller one without any kind of preparation, and the brunette just grunts and strokes himself as the blonde picks up the pace. The camera slides around them and zooms in on the action, the blonde's thick cock spreading the brunette's ass wide, and the brunette's hand wrapped around his own cock, not much smaller than his partner's.
Her breath hisses between her teeth, and she lets go of her breast to wipe sweat from her brow and push the hair out of her eyes. Her other hand picks up the pace below, fingers moving quickly from side to side. It's easier now, she's wetter and more aroused, the stimulation feels better, but she still wants more, wishes she had something thick she could stuff inside herself, so she could feel it just like the guy on the screen.
The blonde has pulled his partner up and holds him around the chest and waist with his left arm (it's thicker than her thigh) while he pumps the brunette's cock with his right hand. And the brunette is holding on to the blonde's hips behind him, as if he's trying to urge him on, as if he wants it faster and harder.
She moves a bit, hand seeking her other breast, twists the nipple hard and her vision flickers a bit. She sinks two fingers inside herself, but it's not enough; a third joins them and she thrusts deep, as deep as she can reach, until her palm comes down on her clit. Her hips buck up to meet it and she pulls back, only to thrust in again, and she hears the muted smack of flesh on flesh.
The brunette ejaculates, groaning as he shoots long stringy jets over the wooden floor, but some of it drips on the blonde's fingers. He raises his hand, and the brunette licks it clean.
She narrows her eyes, holds her breath as she speeds up, until she can even hear the slick, slippery noises of her fingers thrusting in and out of her, and her senses begin slipping away. The last thing she sees before she has to close her eyes is the blonde pulling out and rising just in time to shoot his load over the brunette's face, and then she no longer cares.
She imagines a cock between her legs, spurting high into the air as she comes and clenches down on the three fingers inside her, but even in her imagination, the come spatters on her tits, not a man's hard, flat chest.
She keeps moving, keeps coming, for what feels like a long time, before opening her eyes once more. The computer is silent, the film is over.
She pulls her fingers out, slowly, wipes them on the blanket (she'll have to change it anyway) and reaches for the computer. Click. Play again.
It's back to the blowjob again, and Naoto returns her right hand to the wet spot between her legs.
Man or woman, she's not sure it matters. But since it's not up to her either way, she'll just have to make do.
It's not as if this form is without advantages, she thinks as she begins to circle her aching clit with one finger.
At least this body is always ready for a second round.
It's probably a good trade-off
4. Dear Diary (Rise)
Dear Diary: I met the cutest guy today.
Rise sucks on her pen and rests her chin on her arms, waggles her feet in the air. She doesn't have a diary. She used to, when she was like... seven? Something like that. But she knows that it would be all over the net the moment someone decides to break into her room, and it will happen (at least usually they just steal panties, which is kind of creepy, but at least nothing personal). Speculation in the media. Who is that cute grey-haired boy she's talking about?
She'd like to know, too. She only met him once. He looked so... serious. And cute. Rise doesn't mean 'cute' as in a lost puppy, she means cute, as in oh, the things I'd do to that guy if I had him here in bed with me.
They were all cute, really. The nervous one with the headphones wasn't too bad, but he seemed like the kind of guy who probably masturbates to her photo books, and that always makes it awkward. The tall one with the bleached hair looked scary, but he was kind of nice. But the last one...
She supposes she should feel a bit guilty, but it's not like she knows him. And the internet is full of fake pics with her head pasted on some saggy-chested porn star. She has earned the right to fantasize about real guys.
She had brushed his hand when she handed him his bag. His fingers were a little rough. Texture, Rise. Just imagine the possibilities. She eases a hand in underneath her body and strokes herself through skirt and panties. Even that is enough to fire up the fizzy, glowy sensation that spreads out from that place, up her spine, down her legs, out through her arms. Mmmm.
She pulls the skirt up, bunches it uncomfortably over her hips, and slides her hand back down again. Just her panties now. Plain, white cotton, no ribbons or tassels or anything fancy, just smooth, comfy white cloth, already kind of moist under her finger. She giggles. It's been a long time since she had time to just... do things.
She thinks she's bisexual. She likes guys, but there's something about girls too, the softness of their bodies... well, the softness of her body, she has never had a chance to experiment, but she thinks other girls wouldn't be too different. Even if it didn't send little tingling shocks through her body, she'd enjoy petting that area, so soft and nice even through the barrier of cloth.
She shakes her head, raises her butt in the air and shoves the panties down. Keeps the skirt on, just in case. She's kind of paranoid even now, that someone would peek through the window, or... or something.
Stop thinking. Think about that guy. His gentle eyes. Mmm. Yeah, like that! And his fingers. I think his fingers would be gentle, too.
She's smooth down there, still shaves out of habit. An idol has to be perfect and baby-like. Shut up shut up shut up! Not now. A finger finds her clit and gives a tentative little rub, and she gasps into the pillow. Yes. This is more like it...
He should smile a bit. Yeah, he's smiling in her mind. It's a pretty smile. Like he'd do this because he cares about her, not just because he wants to fuck an idol.
She closes her eyes and buries her face in the pillow. Just fingers, without any ulterior motives or compulsion. Yes. She could live with that.
Maybe he would give her a little kiss, too. Down... there. It breaks the illusion a bit, her fingers can't simulate kissing well enough. Back to fingers, then. She can imagine the slight roughness, that's no problem, and a steady, confident, gentle touch. Mmmmmmmm...
Her spine lights up as tension begins to pool low in her stomach, and she arches her back, pressing her breasts harder into the mattress, raising her butt in the air. Almost... almost-
It's kind of disappointing when she does come. It's nice, but it melts away too quickly, and then she slumps in the bed, hugging the pillow. That's not anything like hugging a guy. He would be kind of hard, and he'd smell kind of raw and dangerous, not like her grandma's detergent.
She sighs and rolls over on her back. This is bad. She has never crushed this hard on a guy she has barely even spoken to before. The last time she even fantasized about a guy was years ago, and it was... an idol, a rock singer. Ugh. Just like the rest of them, huh?
But the image of that one guy stays with her, and she smiles. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
If she sees him again, she'll try to get his number.
5. Light and Dark (Protagonist)
He remembers dreaming of light and dark.
If he puts it like that, it sounds almost acceptable.
Except that light and dark makes him wake up with a raging erection that just won't go down.
Light is represented by an angel, pure white wings, golden hair. Dark is the lilim, with her dark hair and bat-like, leathery wings. The demon girl is holding the angel from behind, one arm around her neck, the other hand's fingers rapidly moving between her thighs, making delightful wet, soppy noises. The angel whimpers and pleads, but the lilim gives her no respite.
The image is rich and vivid, and there's no way he can go down and eat breakfast like this. He'll have to take matters in his own hands.
Literally.
His cock aches, straining against the tight confines of his boxers. He feels as if he's going to come the moment he pulls it free and wraps his fingers around it. Thick and throbbing, hard and sensitive.
After just a couple of strokes, the tip of it glitters with precome. He closes his eyes and moves his hand faster. In his mind's eye, Lilim pulls Angel's hair, makes the white-winged girl arch back sharply. She has tied the blonde's arms with the leather strips of her own outfit, and the angel is defenceless. Her wings beat uselessly and her voice rises in pitch as Lilim slaps her exposed sex, once, twice, then shoves four fingers inside and grinds her thumb against the angel's clit.
He grits his teeth, tightens his grasp. His dick is rock hard, doesn't yield, just throbs hotly against his palm. Precome dribbles down his knuckles and he drops his left hand to wrap around the root of his cock, cup his balls and stroke the area below.
The angel comes, gushing all over the demoness' fingers. Lilim's face twists into a cruel grin, and she thrusts her tail... deep.
The angel screams, and he's not sure if it's in pain, pleasure or both. It echoes in his ears as he arches up off the bed and covers his stomach and chest with hot, sticky fluid, even as the angel convulses and comes again, squeezing down on the little devil's tail.
It's a complete mess, both on top of him and in his head. He feels numb and blank as he cleans up the visible mess, making a note to do something about the rest as soon as school ends.
Later that day, it seems like Igor smiles knowingly as he trades the two personas in for a rather less sexy Omoikane.
But judging by his dreams the following night, it doesn't seem like that was one of his better ideas, either.
6. Apple (Kanji)
He had tried porn, and come to the conclusion that he didn't care much for it.
It wasn't as if that presented much of a problem, though. Advertising material for textiles invariably featured women, and they tended to be much prettier than the girls in porn. It was a lot more fun when they were covered up, too, when he could see the general shapes but had to fill in the rest on his own.
'sides, the women in the catalogues were always smiling, and it's kind of hard to do that around a mouthful of dick.
His favourite image was in an old, beat-up collection of knitting instructions, a photo covering an entire page, of a woman reaching for a big, red apple hanging from a tree. The position pulled her knitted sweater up a little and bared a bit of her midriff, and wow. He still to this day couldn't look at that picture without... well, reacting in a very obvious manner. So he never took it out unless he was sure he would have time to finish his business.
He sprawled on the floor with the catalogue in front of him, slowly getting into the mood. He imagined standing behind her - that girl, a Western woman, rather tall, with blonde hair (not quite as light as his, but it looked like her natural colour) and green eyes. The sweater was 'autumn-inspired', with brown and faded red and yellow patterns, and hugged her figure in a most alluring manner. She had blue jeans below, and they, too, were snug around the hips and showed off her legs. She never moved in his fantasies, just remained in that position, reaching up for an apple she couldn't quite touch, and he held on to her hips, fingers dancing over that little strip of exposed skin. He could feel her breathe, and laugh softly as he tickled her, and her hair fluttered in the wind, but she remained still, her right arm raised, left held out a little to the side.
He didn't really need to look at the picture anymore - it was etched firmly into his memory. His eyes were open, but he stared through it. He had to be careful not to finish too soon. It wasn't the final burst that interested him - that was more like an epilogue, satisfying in its own way, but it was nothing without the journey leading up to it.
In his mind, he let his hands wander slowly higher. The woman was soft, the sweater was soft. There was something special about a woman in a hand-knitted sweater, even if he knew that the model probably hadn't had anything to do with the actual creation process.
He could feel his erection strain against her ass, and his hand pressed down, angling it down toward his leg, somewhat simulating that sensation. He shifted his legs and lowered his body a bit, and was able to slide in between her thighs and feel her heat through the cloth. His hands reached her breasts, and they were softer than anything else he had ever touched. They were definitely bigger than average, and their shape was perfect and he could feel her nipples through the sweater, little nubs of flesh hardening at his touch...
He groaned and grasped the base of his cock tightly as a spasm ran through his body and a few drops of cloudy liquid dripped from the tip. Close. That part always got to him. He stood still in his imagination, too. The woman's thighs clamped down on him like a vice, even though they were soft and smooth.
He rolled over on his back as he slowly started stroking himself again, closed his eyes and brought his other hand up to his chest. His nipples were hard, too, even if they were smaller than that girl's. He rolled them between his fingers, alternating back and forth as the scene continued.
The girl's body trembled as he began to slide back and forth between her legs and played with her breasts through the sweater. She was getting off on it as much as he was, but she still held that position, didn't lower her hand, didn't thrust back against him. But it was all right with him to do all the work. He nuzzled her neck, pulled the collar of the sweater down with his teeth and sucked at her smooth, pink skin.
He began to thrust his hips in reality, too, meeting each stroke of his hand. Close again. Really close.
He was close, but so was she. He sped up, sliding his length against her, and she moaned, the first sound she made, just before...
The scene and reality flowed into each other seamlessly. He came, soaking her jeans, dripping on the grass below. The girl came, shuddering against him, still trying to hold that pose but having more and more trouble doing it; now she even had to meet his movements with her hips, and her ass smacked against his hips with every thrust. And he came, feeling his dick twitch in his grasp, feeling the hot spurts on his stomach.
He continued stroking himself even after it was over, kept his eyes closed, because he wasn't finished yet. The scene played out as it always did. He let go of her, pulled back and plucked the apple from the tree, put it in her outstretched hand, and only then did he allow himself to open his eyes.
Cleaning up was a pain, but his method wasn't without advantages. At least, he never had to worry about hiding the porn.
7. Daydream (Chie)
It's a little embarrassing to have fantasies about people she knows, but it's not as if she can help it. Just a look from the calm, piercing eyes under that grey fringe of hair makes her knees weak.
It's ridiculous. She has never felt anything like this before. Maybe it's something in the water. Or maybe she's just making excuses. All she knows is that it's a good thing Rise can't read minds, because she keeps randomly spacing out in the middle of the day, just thinking about him.
When she comes home, she has to change her panties, because holy crap. And when she says "change", she means take off the ones she's wearing and not put on any new ones for a good long time.
It is ridiculous. And it feels great. Her fingers glide so easily, her skin is so sensitive, she almost comes the moment she makes contact. Hell, she almost comes just from the friction between her thighs as she walks home.
She bets he'd be the type to take charge in bed, too. She's usually the strong one, so it's kind of exciting to imagine being on the "bottom". On her back (just like now, on her futon, with her legs spread, except that it wouldn't just be her fingers moving between them), with him kneeling, preparing her with his fingers. He may be in charge, but that doesn't make him a bad guy, so he'd take care and make sure she's ready before he does anything else. Although he really wouldn't have to worry about her not being wet enough, because... oh, wow. It feels like she could slip her fingers inside purely by accident, she's that slippery. Two fingers, okay, that's good. His fingers are thicker than hers, so she'd feel them a little more, but still. Hell, he'd probably just use one to begin with. Anyway. And another finger there at the top... oooh. She'd come before he even got to do anything. Good thing she's a girl. (And then she really does come, clamping down on her fingers, legs shaking, toes curling, the works.)
And then. And then. She shakes the fuzz from her head. Then, when he's sure she's ready for it...
She slowly eases a third finger inside. He's probably big. Not huge, painful big, but... big. More than just her three fingers, anyway. She likes to imagine that his dick curves up a little, so he can do just what she's doing when she angles her fingers towards her bellybutton.
She comes again when she finds the spot, bites her lip in an effort to keep quiet. She pulls her fingers out and holds her hand up so she can admire the way her skin glistens. Juuuust... like that...
She brings that hand up to her lips and imagines that it's him she's tasting when she licks a clear drop from one finger. She's so horny she could just explode. Oh! Right. Her breasts. Can't be bothered to take the bra off. She pulls it up and tweaks small, dark nipples with her slippery fingers while her other hand works between her legs. Not quite enough. She looks around and spots a hairbrush on a table - sits up and lunges for it, and just barely manages to pull it close enough to grab. Smooth plastic. Perfect.
She licks her lips, tastes salty sweat and a faint tinge of her own arousal as she positions it. The handle slides in almost without resistance, and she pulls her legs up, manages to wedge the brush against the back of her heel so she can thrust awkwardly against it. She needs more hands, one on her tits, one on her clit, that leaves another eight or so to touch everything else she wants touched. He could help with that. He'd be bigger than the brush, too, and warmer, and kind of soft over the hard, and he'd reach deep inside her... and his hands. Oh, his hands.
She whimpers as a familiar shudder runs through her, but she doesn't come, not this time. Something's missing. Oh yeah, if he's on top of her, he should be able to suck her nipples. Wow, it looks hot. She can just picture it. Lips. Nice, soft lips. Teeth, just a little. And a hot, wet, strong tongue behind it all. She can just feel it -
Until flashes of light go off in her head and the sensation bursting out through her entire body drowns out everything else.
That was - three? I think? Never mind. Her fingers are already moving again. She's sweating, her shirt clings to her back and shoulders, she feels little drops running off her body. If he was here, he'd be able to lick them off her. (She uses a finger, warm and wet with her own slick, and imagines that it would feel something like that.)
If she had him here, on top of her, she would run her hands over his back and shoulders. He probably wouldn't mind if she used her nails a little. But lacking that available back or shoulders, she rakes her short, blunt nails over her own skin instead. The inside of her thigh, and up. Across her hip, and up. Over her stomach, and up. She reaches a breast and squeezes, pinches the nipple a little harder than she did before, bucks her hips a little too far and the brush handle slips out. She almost hyperventilates as she sits up and fumbles to get it into position again, to align it just right.
She had been so close, felt so desperate, but it doesn't take long to build up that sensation again, and she laughs breathlessly when it sweeps her away again, for the - what, fourth time? Who knows? Who cares? She lies still, panting, when the last fireworks fade away, and stares up at the ceiling. Wow. But when she moves her hand a bit, she brushes against her clit again and it sends a jolt through her body. It's not an ouch, I think I overdid it kind of sensation. More like an I could keep this up one.
She giggles, a disturbingly girly noise, and slowly begins to stroke the aching little bud between her legs once more.
Guess that will be f, five, then? Let's go for five, five is a nice number- She licks her lips again; they're dry. Here we go. Here - we - ooh.
She's almost too sensitive to continue. Every little touch is like an electric shock. She can't rub and pinch the way she did before; the sensation just overloads her senses and leaves her numb. No. Calm and gentle, calm and gentle... Somewhere along the way, the brush handle has slipped out again. This time, she doesn't put it back. This would be - would be later, right, so he'd already have...
Already have come. She shivers as she imagines - she's not sure what it would feel like, but it should be something like a gush of warmth, yes oh yes, and his thing would twitch inside her...
...then he would pull out. And because he's not a bad guy, he'd make sure she got off one last time. With his tongue. Probably. Yeah, she can imagine that finger being a tongue. Soft, hot, wet. Mmm.
A tongue would flick up and down like so...
- oh. Oh. Oh. Yes -
She doesn't have the energy left to toss and turn. The sensation is fizzy as it runs through her, as if it's fraying at the edges. Her mind goes blank. There are no fireworks before her eyes this time. If the earth moves, it's just a tiny aftershock, insignificant after the real quake. But it leaves her feeling satisfied and calm - almost unconscious. She closes her eyes and has no idea how long she's lying there as the sweat cools on her body.
Eventually she gets up, wobbling as she strips herself of the sweat-soaked clothes, disposes of them in the laundry basket and stumbles into the bathroom for a nice hot shower.
It is embarrassing to have fantasies about people she knows, but she just can't help it.
Detective Dojima is simply too damn sexy for his own good.
8. Killed the Cat (Teddie)
The human body was full of curious features.
Chie-chan had told him that 'curiosity killed the cat', but she hadn't said anything about bears, or people, or even people who used to be bears, so he figured he was going to be just fine. The only thing he had in common with cats was his fuzzy fur, and this body didn't have a lot of that anyway.
The ears held his attention for a while, especially after he learned to waggle them. The nose, too, even if it was mostly inferior to even his old, worn-out one. He had spent hours in front of a mirror poking and prodding himself and making strange faces until Yosuke told him his face would freeze like that.
That still left the entire rest of his body, but Chie-chan and Yuki-chan had made it very clear that he was not to show himself to others unless he was fully dressed. Well, Chie-chan had made some very graphic threats when telling him what she was going to do if she found him walking around without wearing at least a shirt and a pair of pants, and then Yuki-chan had folded over laughing, but Chie-chan had told him she would have agreed if she only remembered how to speak.
He had been able to go to the bathroom on his own, but the bits involved seemed so needlessly complicated. Well, the one on front, anyway. He had tried to ask Yosuke, but didn't get much of an answer, and it only made him more curious.
So even though he was supposed to take a bath, he had only got as far as to sit down in the tub before certain things caught his attention.
It was kind of floppy. It was convenient for aiming, but that thing hanging underneath was very confusing and didn't seem to be good for much. Yosuke had muttered something about 'family jewels' but he wasn't going to fall for that. Jewels were shiny and sparkly, not pink and fleshy and fuzzy. It was probably one of those metaphor things Rise-chan had told him about.
The tip of the thing was really complicated, too. Especially that part that could be pulled back and forth over that other part. Back and forth. Back and forth. He wondered if it was supposed to transform or something.
Back and forth, back and forth.
It felt kind of funny. It looked kind of funny, too, with that purple bit disappearing under the pink bit and peeking out again.
It felt really funny. Kind of... fuzzy, except on the inside. And then -
Teddie's eyes went wide and round.
"Wow," he said to himself, echoing slightly in the silent bathroom. "It never did that before!"
It felt even funnier now. Funny in the same way fizzy soda was funny. It wasn't like anything else he had ever felt, but it wasn't bad, actually... kind of like the way you couldn't just drink one gulp of melon soda. You had to keep going until the can was empty, because anything else was A Waste of Resources, and that was Bad. (Rise-chan had told him that.)
Whatever he was doing, it definitely didn't feel as if the can was empty yet. And it was a lot easier to keep his grip now.
He kept going, and it was kind of like the way the second gulp of melon soda tastes better than the first, but not as good as the third.
And this might even be better than melon soda, he realized as his hand began to move faster, apparently without any direct orders from his brain.
After a while, there was a... building kind of sensation down there.
He bent forward to see if something else had change, but everything seemed to be the same...
Suddenly, it felt like things kind of discharged and exploded down there, and something warm, wet and slimy hit him in the face.
Teddie started, flailed around a bit with his free hand, fell over backwards in the tub and hit his head with a loud clang.
He was still lying there when Yosuke knocked on the door and asked if he was all right. When he didn't manage to say anything, the door opened, and Yosuke leaned in over the tub.
And froze.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"Yosuke!" Teddie squeaked, still holding on to his thing, and shook it in Yosuke's general direction. (It was a lot more floppy than it had been the last time he looked.) "I was just - and - and something came out! And it wasn't pee! Is it supposed to do that? Am I... am I going to die now?" His lower lip quivered.
Yosuke facepalmed with great enthusiasm. "Not unless I kill you myself." His gaze flitted down, then up again, and he repeated the process - only this time with both hands.
"This is so not fair," he groaned, before lowering his hands and glaring down at Teddie, who was looking back up with wide, innocent eyes. And a lot of gunk on his face.
"Just... just wash up," Yosuke said, and seemed to deflate.
He slammed the door behind him when he went.
Teddie sat up and rubbed his aching head. Yosuke sure wasn't being very friendly, all of a sudden.
He made a note to ask Sensei about this the next time they met up at Junes.