Work Text:
The moon was hanging in the night sky surrounded by glittering stars. Starish and Quartet Night were doing the rest of their individual scenes for Setsugetsuka. Cecil had finished his and was free to take a break. You decided to go with him. Your shoes clicked against the smooth tile flooring of the temple. Almost in perfect sync with Cecil’s steps as he pulled you into a room.
You worked as a makeup artist. Dolling up the boys for their photoshoots and music videos. They would squirm or rub their faces out of habit, forcing you to wipe them clean and start fresh. Cecil was the best behaved. Sometimes he would flinch away from the eyeliner pen, but that was all the trouble he gave you.
Now that work wasn’t involved; things are different.
You knew that there was a rule against staff being intimate with the talent. Especially someone as insignificant and replaceable as a makeup artist. You just couldn’t help yourself. Cecil’s gaze always met yours. You found him to be very handsome, and he always stood out among his group members. His tawny skin that shone beneath the sun. How his clothes hugged the scent of clover and incense. When you became ‘friends’ his hands roamed your body as if to map out the shape and its planes.
His eyes lit up whenever you entered the room. He wanted to hold your hand in his, expressing his admiration for your fingers. He wanted a kiss, stealing away every breath you had; because it belonged to him. Cecil was far greedier than you expected. You were learning this now.
Your office skirt had been shoved up your waist, your blouse yanked open and hanging off of your arms. Your breasts nearly spilled out of the cups of your bra and the delicate nylon crotch of your tights had been ripped open by hungry hands. “Vas-tu supplier pour ton plaisir?” The French language always sounded beautiful, but you had no means of genuinely understanding it.
Cecil ground his crotch against the soaked cotton of your panties. The fabric clung to the fat folds of your pussy as you whimpered above him. Your hands gripping at the lace of his top. He laid back amongst a heap of silk and satin cushions. Your thighs in his hands as his thumb rubbed against your aching clit. You could feel his cock beneath the white dress pants. Your hands flew from his lace top and down to the button. You wanted to feel him raw and deep. You needed his cock buried deep inside of you, carving your insides until it memorized his shape and only his shape.
His hips bucked and you yelped. You could feel cool air hitting your pussy now. It was exposed to Cecil’s half lidded eyes as your panties stayed tugged aside. You managed to unbutton his pants with unsteadied hands. You weren’t expecting this. Your purse was left behind with all means of protection. You had a feeling Cecil wouldn’t be stopped by the lack of a condom. “I-I don’t...” You wanted to tell him you couldn’t understand what he said. Your sounds were becoming breathless as he slipped his hands beneath your ass. Temporarily lifting you off his lap with minimal effort as you shoved his pants down. The fabric of his boxers were now scrunched up and joined his dress pants at his mid-thigh.
He seemed amused by your reactions. Chuckling softly as his cock twitched, resting against his hip as he let you sit back down. The wet slick from your pussy coated the velvety flesh of his cock as you rolled your hips against his shaft. Humping him slowly as he allowed you. Your hands grabbed at the lace of his top again. The fabric was frustrating you as you pulled. A pout forming on your lips as you lifted your hips, swiping your fingers over your clit with a whine before grabbing Cecil’s cock in your palm.
You gave it a few firm strokes. Lining it up with your entrance as he grunted beneath you. Exhaling a whine as you slowly sank down on his shaft. Using his cock as the necessary prep to stretch you open. Your thighs shook as you took him down to the hilt. The dark wiry hairs at the base catching on your clit as your body began to forcibly adjust around him. The stretch made you dizzy. You threw your head back as you rocked your hips slowly. Your hands curling into fists against his top and you could hear the fabric starting to tear and rip.
It was replaceable. It wasn’t a big deal now. “Does that feel good for you?” Cecil asked softly. His hands roaming your sides as he pulled you downwards. Folding you in half against his body as your cheek pressed against his. “Supplies-moi.” He cooed against the shell of your ear. His soft tongue darting out to taste the cartilage as he snapped your earlobe between his white teeth. You didn’t know what that meant. But your body seemed to speak his language just fine. Your pussy flexed around his cock. Your hips rocking as you rested on top of him. Your breasts crushed against his chest as you nodded.
Whatever it was; yes. “Cecil...” You whispered his name. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass once more. Bouncing you in his lap with grunts and pants. The slap of skin made you mewl in delight as Cecil battered your cunt. Your eyes started to roll back each time the tip slammed into that special spongey patch inside of you.
Your clear slick coating his shaft made gliding easier. “Mon minou, does this feel good? It’s hugging me so much- Like you don’t want me to ever stop.” His voice was almost breathless as you let him bully his heavy cock in and out of you. You were going to reach your climax very soon. You could feel the familiar winding in your stomach. “I can feel you’re so close. You want to use me for your pleasure?” He kissed the side of your cheek, and you became boneless against him. Shaking and cumming as he fucked you through your orgasm. Not even close to being done.
You sucked in a sharp breath. Your sounds heightened and loud. You truly did replicate a bitch in heat as Cecil took and took and took from you. Each thrust had you clawing at his clothes as he whispered sweet nothings. Some in that language you couldn’t understand. Some in a language you could. And all of them left you tensing and shaking as you bounced your hips in tandem with his thrusts.
For a brief moment your senses felt heightened. You noticed that the room smelled of incense. Maybe that was what had you so riled up. Not the longing gazes from Cecil. Not his delicate touches that would linger and pet the bare flesh where he could feel it. Not the taste of salt on his neck.
No, it had to be the sandalwood smoke wafting from the incense burner in pale white coils. Dancing to the rhythm of you being fucked.