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G.GALLOWAY

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[ the public nudity isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened — embry has found himself in many a compromising situation over his years at boarding school and then yale, and certainly while traveling abroad and making his personality all about being the best anonymous fuck whatever european town he was in had ever seen. when their clothes disappear in the otherworld, he’s already had enough jello shots and cocaine not to care. and when the exquisite form of greer galloway appears before him, as naked as the very first night he’d met her, he really doesn’t care who sees.

the 8-ball has given him specific instructions — go down on someone — and he knows exactly who that someone should be. it’s without shame that he pushes her up against the railing of the seating gallery, going down to his knees to tongue her to a prolonged, vicious orgasm, her legs squeezing his shoulders, their hands tightly hooked so that she’s never in danger of falling. easiest challenge he’s ever been given. when the doors open for them they make their way back to greer’s room, pawing at each other the same way they did years ago the night that they met, clothes magicked back onto their bodies but now more of a burdensome distraction than anything else.

embry is only a little sorry that he might have flashed greer’s ass to the random passing guests in the halls, his hand busy up her skirt, and when they finally make it to her suite, he finds himself pushed against the door, his coke-addled brain sparking with interest at greer’s flushed cheeks and the indignant (playful? of course, she likes it, because she’s just like him) look in her eyes. ]

Don’t be mad at me, princess. [ he loosens his tie, still leaning against the door for balance. ] Unless you want to be. I did spank you pretty hard, after all.

[ Greer's been in similar positions to the one she finds herself in now in Otherworld — but then, she'd at least had something to cover her naked form with, even if it had barely amounted to little more than conveniently placed scraps of material. Other guests may have no trouble at all walking around naked, basking in the attention of whoever they encounter, but Greer's first impulse is to cover herself before frantically glancing around the room for the closest available hiding place.

Embry finds her before she can successfully achieve the latter part of her plan, and by the time he drops to his knees in front of her, she's hot and squirming, all too conscious of the attention that might be on them while trying to calm the twin fires in her complexion, the way her heartbeat echoes just as intensely between the splay of her thighs when Embry hauls her legs up over his shoulders. By the time the door opens to seemingly set the two of them free, she feels ravenous, like all the hunger she's been keeping stifled is spilling out of her one kiss, one clutch of fingers, one well-timed smack at a time.

Her ass is stinging, and her pussy is a slippery mess, courtesy of his tongue, but there's a fire in her gaze when she shoves a now-dressed Embry back into the door, the combination of that force and his weight closing it behind them — but her approach, the way she moves toward him, could only be described as prowling, before she snakes fingers around the end of his loosened tie and gives it a brief, taut yank to assert herself even closer. ]

You're right. I am mad. Furious, actually. [ Another, punctuating tug on his tie, and Greer lifts her chin, giving him her best imperious look. ]

Are you going to say sorry for what you just did?

[ his mind flits back to the sincerest apology he’d given her weeks ago, possibly the most sincere apology he’s ever given in his lifetime and ever will until his death. of course it goes to the girl he was convinced could mend his broken heart. he knows better now, that his heart is too warped a thing to be pieced back together, but that doesn’t mean he loves her any less, even if he can’t say it. those five years sit empty between them, the loneliest of his life, and he’s just starting to be able to fill them. ]

What if I’m not sorry?

[ he stumbles a little when she yanks his tie this way and that, a step closer than before and with nothing at his back now to keep him steady. she’s so fucking cute looking up at his height, a sharpness in those moonlit eyes. there’s no way, no fucking way she shares blood with abilene corbenic and her whirring, mechanical heart, capable of the kind of treachery that won’t just drag embry through the dirt but will ruin a child’s life, too. a child that never asked to have the two shittiest people in the world as parents.

ice blue eyes settle back again, blinking slowly. back in the room with greer. if he licks his lips, he can still taste her sweetness on his tongue. ]

I am not sorry. [ while she holds his tie taut, he tries to reach down to slip his fingers beneath her skirt again, fingers catching at the edge of the fabric. ] For spanking you. Because it’s hot. And if you want a real apology, you’re gonna have to punish me.

[ Of course Greer pauses to consider the apology he'd offered her before, one with so much more weight and expectation than the one she's all but demanding in this moment, but she's not allowing herself to dwell in the all-too-recent past, not when she can still feel her own pulse through the handprints temporarily marking her skin, the lingering slickness between her thighs. Instead, she's drawn in by the way Embry can look full of contrition and completely unapologetic in the same instant, his mouth wearing the type of crooked slant that makes her want to simultaneously crawl onto the bed on all fours and slap him right across the face. ]

If you're not, then you're not.

[ But the tone of her voice should serve as more than a little indication that there'll be consequences, for him, if he doubles down on it, if he not only avoids asking for forgiveness but chooses not to have regrets. She's a bit taller than she normally is, in these heels, tall enough to reach him, tall enough to make an effort at intimidation.

Another yank, but then Greer releases the tie to shove Embry back, with both hands, into the door again, his weight making it rattle in the frame — and this time, she asserts herself forward too, skirt hitching higher up her thighs as she notches one knee up between his legs, applies a less-than-subtle pressure there. ]

We both like a little pain, don't we, Embry? But I know what would punish you more.

[ There's a sudden absence of everything — sensation, scent, warmth — because she's just retreated from him, backing up one step at a time, creating more distance. ]

Forcing you to look, and not touch. [ She'd been naked before, and he hadn't been able to help himself; her fingers idly stray to the front buttons on her blouse, toying with one or two as her gaze roams over his face, heated and lingering. ] Making you beg for it until I'm satisfied.

[ the door catches his fall, and then greer is on him, grinding her knee right against his very obvious, very much aching erection, and it's perfect, so perfect, just like that night five years ago when they'd clawed at each other in an attempt to stitch up their mutual tattered hearts. they'd been like feral animals then, his emotions dragging him by the leash, and despite the careful control he's been forced to practice as he rose higher in rank at ash's side, the impulse of his desire has him now just like it did back then. he's thoughtless when he grasps her, his only aim to drag her clothes off so he can get his hands on her bare skin.

she whisks out of his grasp, and — oh, yeah. that's fucking wretched. ]

I would prefer the pain.

[ ash plays games like this, the ones where embry always ends up on his knees, or tied to a chair, or blindfolded with his hands behind his back. he pretends all of ash's commands and denials and punishments are hurdles he can best, but he knows before he even begins that he'll lose every time. and the worst part is, he wants to. there's something damaged in him that wants to be broken, wants to be punished, wants the pain every single time.

he and greer are both of a kind. they both like the pain, both crave the punishment. they’re on more equal footing with each other than they are with ash, and maybe that makes her more dangerous, not less. he watches the first two buttons pop open, halting his step forward as she matches him with a step back. fine. she can set the rules. ]

You want me to beg? [ a wolfish grin passes over his face as he lifts one aristocratic brow. ] Please, oh, please, Ms. Galloway, let me see your tits.

[ He’s hard already, which Greer likes — likes knowing that she only has to kiss, touch, clutch at him for the briefest amount of time to make his cock that stiff in his slacks, likes knowing that she could feel him hot and heavy in her hand in a matter of seconds if she ordered it.

But Embry’s so much like her, too, in the sense that pain is easier to bear, and almost a relief in some instances. Being denied, being restrained, being trussed up and made to beg and live in her shame is what’s harder to endure, which is why she knows that it’d be a harsher punishment to inflict on him here — tormenting him with a view of something he’s not permitted to put hands or mouth on.

Her hand stills on the row of buttons, before unfastening the one that would expose the lace of her bra, the little pearl nestled in the valley between her breasts. ]

Not good enough. [ Two can play that haughty game, she thinks, suddenly moving to snap her fingers before indicating the floor with an index pointing downward. ]

On your knees. [ There’s a glint in her gaze again, a hint of the rush that ordering him around brings her. She never gets to be on this end of things, and it’s a heady experience for her, too, making her hot and flushed with a different kind of want — the desire to see what Ash gets to see, to have someone as beautiful as Embry is eating out of the palm of her hand. She doesn’t want to break him, though, just bend him enough until she needs him too badly to wait a second longer, and it starts with seeing how quickly he’ll obey her now. ]

[ it could never be so easy as just asking for a glimpse, so of course she holds out, embry now ravenously fixated on her blouse coming off and having to settle for inch by miserable inch. well. technically he’s cultivated the patience of a saint by now, existing off memories alone for five years (complete bullshit — embry moore and patience do not go together in any life).

she must be learning from ash, because clearly she’s keeping track of every time he mouths off and holding it against him. from experience, he knows this would go so much better for him if he closed his mouth. ]

You look incredibly lonely over there. And I said please twice.

[ there’s a flash in his eyes at the abrupt command, the snap straightening his spine. it nearly dislodges something in his brain, the breath he’s presently drawing in moving more tightly through his chest. the color in his cheeks is a match for the flush in her own, and he only momentarily considers disobeying before he goes down to his knees, his cock straining against his trousers. his hand moves to his belt to relieve the pressure, gaze cast upward as the light plays along the icy blue of his eyes.

in a softly crooning voice, made rougher with desire — ] How about now?

[ It would be one thing if Greer were keeping score in her head, running up that mental tally of transgressions and assigning an appropriate punishment for each one in response — but the truth is she's still figuring out how to do this, embrace her more dominant side with someone in a way that comes naturally and doesn't feel like she's contorting herself to fit a kind of mold.

Beyond that, Embry is just a walking distraction for her — from the piercing blue of his eyes to the visible tent in his trousers. He even looks more handsome when he's blushing, something she didn't think was possible until she put him in the ideal position for her to bear witness to it. His breath stops, as does hers, but then he's sinking down onto the floor, the audible clink of his belt coming undone punctuating the silence that falls over the room — at least, before Greer remembers herself, and hums a noise of approval. ]

Better. [ She can't praise him too readily, not yet, not when she's made all of this about him needing to earn as much as another inch of bared skin from her, but she does stop backing up, gaze briefly straying in the direction of the small bench at the foot of her bed.

It's there that she assumes her next perch, knees tucked together while she swivels to face him head-on — and then she slowly lets them fall open, affording him a front-row seat to the white lace underneath, the fabric already visibly damp against her folds. It's too slow to be written off as accidental, like she hasn't meant for him to see it, so she thumbs open another button in the meantime, wanting to know if she can make the muscle in his jaw tic a little. ]

You know where your hands are meant to be. [ Palms up, on top of his thighs — where Ash always insists she keeps hers while she's kneeling for him, no matter what he's in the middle of doing to her. ]

[ his hands stop moving when she spreads her legs, sitting pretty on her throne at the base of the bed and showing off lace made translucent by her own wetness. he licks his lips and tastes her there, and he could just crawl across the room and take his chances, but he huffs out another breath and resumes unbuckling his belt, slowly pulling it from the loops. ]

I don't know where my hands are meant to be. That's a game you and Ash play.

[ presumably. if he sounds a little tetchy, it's only because he's pretty sure greer is the perfect submissive in ash's bedroom, while embry is the most under-performing one that's ever crossed ash's lap. whatever. he never officially signed up for that shit anyway. it was only a few years ago that he believed he was so fucking special, providing something to ash that no one else ever could, until ash married the most vanilla lawyer in america and dashed embry's delusions against the jefferson memorial. he's been careful ever since not to overstate his importance.

he discards the belt between them like a snake, then rests his hands casually against his thighs, not touching himself but itching to. his thumb twitches closer to his fly as another button slides open, her bra on display. ]

I can help you out of that, you know. [ he angles a brow at her. ] If you come here. Or let me come there.

[ Greer's gaze wavers, that initial flicker of surprise betraying her efforts at maintaining a cooler composure. It's true that she doesn't really know the full extent of what he and Ash do, at least by comparison to what Ash enjoys from her, and maybe she'd made an assumption that it tends to go similarly, or that Ash's demands, appetites, whatever they are with Embry, run parallel to what he wants when she's in his bed.

Yet the sound of Embry's belt rushing through the loops, that whisper of leather against fabric, draws her attention down to where his hands are moving, where he drops the strip of material between them like he's throwing down a gauntlet — and now it's been left to her to pick it up. ]

The first mistake would be letting you use your hands. Or get too close.

[ Greer's jaw firms determinedly, an idea suddenly occurring to her, knees sliding together again as she rises from the bench, barely breaking stride in bending over to collect the belt from where it lies on the rug. ]

Behind your back, then. One wrist over the other. [ Her intention should be clearer after that, but she's still careful to remain out of arm's reach until she's standing behind him, when she can crouch down to begin securing said wrists together with the belt. This close, the temptation to reach for him in bigger ways is rising, especially when she's practically drawing in his scent on each breath, but she's denying herself too, here, maybe even yanking the belt a little tighter than she means to in the process. ]

[ it’s hard to explain exactly what it is that he and ash do. there are right ways to go about this — with conversations and understandings and safewords — and then there’s the way he and ash go about it. rough. messy. unpredictable in its need. it’s not that ash doesn’t take care of him. he has never, ever let embry fall alone into the dark, gaping space once he’s cracked him wide open. but it isn’t how he imagines ash and greer to be, because even if he hasn’t been privy to whatever the hell they’ve been getting up to, he knows that she listens to him in a way that embry does not. it’d been apparent in the way she’d draped herself over his lap in the piano bar at ash’s behest, submitting to the sting of his palm without fighting it like embry would have.

maybe ash likes that more. something he doesn’t have to wrangle and tame. the needy little pulse throbs tighter in him when greer comes close, glad for the interruption to his tumultuous thoughts, and he tries out her tactic, setting his wrists together behind his back without complaint as she belts them tightly, turning his head to watch the spill of her breasts through her open blouse while she works. ]

That’s not fair. You should’ve let me touch you at least once.

[ he regrets giving up his hands so easily, fingers flexing as he imagines the slick glide of his fingertips against her glistening cunt. but even with his hands bound, he still has use of his mouth, so he lurches over swiftly and licks a hot stripe along her upper thigh while she’s still in reach, his teeth biting into smooth flesh as he noses up her skirt. ]

That's the whole point.

[ It's not supposed to be fair — but a different unfairness, not the kind that still has Embry convinced, sometimes, that they shouldn't be doing this, that he doesn't belong with her and Ash, no matter how right it feels. Greer's determined enough to emphasize the point otherwise at every opportunity, and stubborn enough not to let Embry push her away in the process, but maybe all of it has been leading up to this for them — him, on his knees, and her denying him more and more until he's begging for the privilege to touch her. Maybe, she wants to punish him that much more for all they could have had together before now.

Kneeling this close to him was a mistake; she realizes it all too late, but she's already crouched down within easy reach, and even with his hands bound, she should have anticipated Embry's uncanny ability for bending the rules that have just been set in place. His tongue on her skin makes her breath hitch, the scrape of teeth stealing her air altogether, and before Greer can even think twice about it she's pulled back a hand to strike him across the face with it, a reflexive slap that makes her own palm sting with the strength of its delivery.

Her first impulse is to stagger back, wide-eyed, surprised even at herself, bringing that same hand to her lips as it starts to tremble — it feels too harsh, coming from her, but there's no taking it back now, nothing she can do other than look at him with an expression of muted horror. ]

Embry — [ Surely, she's overstepped; surely, she's gone too far, her heart dropping into her stomach as the seconds tick by and she waits for him to acknowledge her. ]

[ her palm cracks across his cheek before he can get anywhere near the wet heat of her cunt, and where she might've expected a growl of anger or an absurd display of machismo, the sound that shudders out of his throat is far from either of those things, breathless and keening. a wet spot begins to darken the front of his trousers where his cock stubbornly weeps for attention and fails to get it. a quiet fuck drops from his lips, his lashes fluttering as he seeks her gaze.

and she looks horrified, as if she's accidentally stepped on her puppy's tail. it dimly occurs to him that the things he and ash do in the bedroom might take a little getting used to. ]

Come here, princess. [ his face is flushed, and it's not just from where she slapped him, color creeping down his throat where the pace of his breath has quickened. ] It didn't hurt. Well, it did. But I liked it.

[ he tries to clear the fog of lust from his brain, thinking of what ash would do. no, that's no good. he and ash don't follow any rules. instead, he thinks of what he knows from his visits to lyonesse. ]

I'll give you a safe word, so you know how far you can go with me. [ he's never hit a limit he couldn't cross, although he's distantly aware that doesn't always mean he should have crossed them. the corner of his mouth curves up in a smile. ] Steinbeck. The first thing we ever argued about.

[ his throat bobs in a swallow, his entire body straining toward her, his hips trying to flex into nothing to relieve some of the building tension. she's careful this time to stay out of reach, and he's seriously considering the merits of dragging himself across the floor just to be able to kiss her sharply heeled foot. ]

Hurt me again. [ his breath grows ragged. ] Fuck, Greer, please just fucking touch me.

[ That plaintive keen — she's never heard anything like that from Embry before. She knows other sounds, though, could replay them in her mind with very little difficulty at all. The noise he makes when he slips a hand between her legs and she's already embarrassingly wet, like something between a groan and a sigh. The breath he takes when his cock is making a home for itself in her cunt, as if he can't believe he's even allowed to get close enough to fuck her. The hurts they've inflicted on each other live beneath the skin, closer to the kind that can invisibly puncture the heart, but she's never struck him before, never even really considered it until the sight of him on his knees conjured that reflex.

When Greer reaches for him again, it's gentler, mostly so she can bring a still-shaking hand to touch the place where she slapped him, feeling where the skin's a bit hotter now. She hasn't hit him hard enough to leave a defined mark, nor the outline of each individual finger, but she wonders what she'd be feeling now if she had. ]

A safeword. [ She exhales in the form of a chuckle — with how new all of this is, she'd forgotten to even consider the need for one, but he's guiding her even from his knees, and in gratitude, or maybe even a reward, she slips her arms around him, briefly hugging him to her middle, fingers of one hand carding through his hair until her nails can rake over his scalp.

And then he begs her, the please on his lips like a vice around her heart, and her grip in his hair tightens, as she uses it to yank his head back more roughly, to return his gaze to hers. ]

Steinbeck, then. If it's too much. [ Her eyes drift down to verify the tent in his slacks, the visible spot of wet where he's leaked through them. ] But I don't think we're anywhere near "too much" yet.

[ She backs away quickly, before he can pitch toward her again, resuming her original spot on the bench, her knees slowly spreading wide. When her hand moves, it isn't to resume efforts on her blouse buttons again, but to stray between her thighs, up under her skirt, ghosting over damp lace. ]

Make me come without touching me, and I'll let you fuck me anywhere you want after.

Edited 2025-01-27 01:21 (UTC)

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