Title: something borrowed
notes: please, keep your silly barrages of 'omfg, she's such a bitch' to yourselves and relish in the fact that these things happen. enjoy.
She swallowed, breathing shaking as she stared up at him.
She hadn't meant to end up in this predicament. And she knew it was wrong – knew there were no words to describe the boundary she was hopping over by this. But the want was there; it has always been there. It'd never left. No matter how many times she had tried to fight it.
Because this was wrong.
"I shouldn't be doing this," she whispered hoarsely.
He stared at her and her knees buckled at the beauty of his silver-white eyes. "I know."
She neared him, her mouth becoming dry with everything she was already expecting. Her hands rose up and her fingers tangled themselves in the rich, cappuccino-brown strands of his hair. And all of a sudden she was kissing him – or he was kissing her. And it was breath-taking. It made her want to just… It made her want to do the craziest things.
Her hands slid down to his broad shoulders, to the buttons of his shirt; hastily she began to undo them, one by one – her lips never breaking away from his. Her mind grew more clouded with each button being undone; the thought of his bare chest – the thought of the muscles that were going to come into view.
His arms slid around her waist before she hit the ground.
"Stupid," he hissed.
"She's my best friend."
It was silent, hands still fumbling with the buttons, lips leaving marks on creamy necks.
"I know," he finally said.
His shirt came off after that, she pulled away and stared; drinking up this image that would be hers only once. And then her hands darted to the buckle of his belt, only stopping when her shirt became the next unnecessary thing to have; that was quickly disposed of.
His lips attacked her neck with kisses; kisses filled with teeth and tongue. And she moaned lightly, her nimble hands finding the zipper of his slacks.
All of a sudden she found herself flat on her back on the bed she knew he shared with someone else. But her mind was too hazy – she couldn't care, even if she wanted to. Her green eyes lifted up to stare at him; watching as his slacks slowly slid down his legs, leaving him in only his boxers.
And she couldn't help but lick her lip in anticipation.
"This is wrong," she murmured.
He gave a nod, his hands lifting her skirt up, "I know."
She watched as the tip of his fingers feathered her panties; shivered at the feeling. Do it now, she wanted to scream at him, don't waste any time – it's just this once. But she couldn't find her voice. She wanted to be selfish just this once; wanted to borrow something that was not hers – she promised she'd give it back.
And she felt filthy. Dirty.
But that's how life was now, right? No self respect for anything?
She bit her lip as he slowly, teasingly brought the skimpy article of clothing down her long legs; eyes rolling back as he littered kisses on her inner thighs. When he placed a soft kiss, right at the center of her core, she arched her back and demanded that he moved faster.
She didn't catch his smirk as he straightened, his cloudy, milky-white eyes watching her reaction before he dipped down, tongue peeking out, and gave a slow yet thorough lick.
And she moaned.
"N-no foreplay," she hissed, small hands gripping the bed sheets.
But he didn't listen. And his tongue continued to lick.
Moans filled the bedroom along with hissing and sighing. She didn't know how much of that she handled before she forced him on his back; licking her lips, she grabbed his manhood through the material of his boxers, green eyes transfixed at his reaction.
He was so gorgeous; and he was not hers.
But this was only for a while. Just this one.
She yanked the boxers down, but unlike him, she didn't tease him. She went right to it; straddled him and adjusted herself well. And she rode him, bright eyes firmly shut; hands pulling pink hair away from her face as she opened her mouth to let out silent screams of pleasure.
He watched her with fascination, hands firmly grasping her hips. And it was only a matter of minutes before he flipped them over, making it clear on who was going to dominate who. She opened her lust filled eyes and watched him as he penetrated her with powerful thrusts, hissing in pleasure, moaning in ecstasy.
One of her legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him closer.
"Go faster," she commanded.
Who knew when his wife would come home?
With each thrust she felt herself reaching her peak. Her back arched, hands gripping the bed sheets desperately. Her lips parted and her pleasure was known. Seconds after her orgasm, his came; her name passing his lips in a breathy sigh.
There was a moment of silence, filled with nothing but hitched breathing. She was the first to move, grabbing her panties and pulling her bra back down to cover her breasts. He followed her movements and draped his hips with his boxers, one of his hands going up to fix his hair.
"Will you be alright," he asked, knowing how easily she could break.
She nodded mutely, her mind already dictating all the disgust, all the pleasure, all the want that was still there. "Of course."
He nodded curtly and watched her straighten herself up. "She's still your best friend."
"I know," she whispered.
Once she was fixed she turned to stare at him, the pool of hot lava at the pit of her stomach bubbling all over again. But she couldn't have him; he was just borrowed.
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