This is a response to a challenge issued by Remittance Girl, which was, in turn a partial response to her reading Fifty Shades of Grey – a book I myself don’t plan on reading. The idea is to take a scene, and interpret it in both a Vanilla and BDSM perspective. I’ve seen a few examples, and this is my quickie take on it. Imagine in this case that we are seeing and feeling the exact same scene in turn through each participant’s eyes. – M [Edit- I kinda missed the letter of the challenge the first time around. I’ve remedied that.]
I stared down at Gail, utterly smitten, almost unbelieving this woman called me hers. The heat between us banished the fall chill from the apartment. The bed under us, under her, was still made; Gail’s bare back lay on the quilted bedspread.
Buried in her, between her open, welcoming legs, I was giddy. Drunk with it – with her. One hand gripping the fabric for dear life, the other couldn’t touch enough of her. I don’t know how I could make love to her without tumbling over, but I did, and it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. Molten, beautiful. I felt I could love this woman, after all this time, after all the searching and heartaches.
My caress found her temple, her cheek. The line of her jaw, the curve of her neck as she closed her eyes and sighed, a sound that burned itself into my memory. She closed her legs around me, ankles crossed behind my back and pulled me deeper. Her arms reached for me. Oh, God. The hot squeeze inside, it was more than I could resist – and why would I want to? With my last volition, I lowered my head to kiss her, and cried out into her mouth as I came.
I stared up at Ian in partial partial shock, almost unbelieving this man could possess me so completely.
The chill of my apartment, my stripped off clothes didn’t seem to penetrate the fierce heat of his gaze or his body. There hadn’t been time or opportunity for the warmth or modesty of snuggling under the sheets. He pinned me on top of my bed, strange I could feel the quilting of the bedspread against my skin.
Ian fucked me, splayed and split like a wanton thing. He filled me over an over, one hand with an anchor grip on the bed, the other pawing and clawing at me. My skin burned under his touch – and, strangely, hungered for it. I’d never been made love to… no, fucked… so completely. Ian’s face was so feral, so savage, I don’t know if he would have stopped if I’d told him to. I was tempted to… but Jesus, how it felt to be taken like that. It wasn’t just his cock – though I’d never deny it felt wonderful to have him hilt and grind into me. It was everything. His hand tracing my body, up to my head, where I have expected him to grab and pull my hair. Instead, his hand settled downward, fingers along my neck.
I remember being instantly, keenly, aware of the white knuckled grip of his other hand on the bed, and the barely gentle press of his fingertips on my neck. The potential, the power held in check. The message of it imprinted on my brain. I was his. And it sent me over the edge. Blindly, I wrapped myself around him, a present, and gave. The snarl of his mouth pressed against mine was his acceptance.
Bonus/extra/retake as well: I kind of missed part of the challenge objective by switching POVs. Part of the idea was to take the same scene from the _same_ POV and switch on the kink. Well, I can try to do that, too. Though, it’ll look a bit familiar. This is as much a writing exercise as anything else. –M
I stared down at Gail, lust mad, the only clear though in my mind the desire to possess her utterly. Her apartment was cold, but it didn’t matter, there’d be heat enough. I’d felt it through her clothes as I stripped her, and it bloomed between us as I lowered onto her on her bed, her legs parted for me. And I pinned her there with my first thrust. My first claim.
I fucked Gail, with purpose. She gave herself to me – I felt it in the flood of her cunt, and the feel of her skin under my raking fingers. But that wasn’t enough. I wanted to take all of her. Intoxicating need fueled and drove me deeper into her. I imagined my hands like like claws, like I could tear through the bedsheets to anchor myself; like I could peel away her skin and see inside of her. My cock, rooted, felt ever ripple and squeeze inside her. Instinct, self defense, mutual lust, whatever it was, fuck it was good. It was what I wanted.
I brought my free hand to her face. I didn’t need to make her look at me, she watched me, wide eyed. I’d have to wait to later to interpet her expression. Now it didn’t matter. My fingers slid down her cheek, the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. She closed her eyes as my fingers settled there. She sighed, a sound that burned itself into my memory. That was it. More her legs around me, more than her arms reaching for me. That exhalation – the settling in of her. She was mine. Everything in her said so. And oh, the hot squeeze inside, it was everything I wanted. With a last savage fuck, I kissed her and came. My Gail.