yousei-san (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flair) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metamorphosis2010-11-04 08:52 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-11-04 08:52 pm
Entry tags:
169;
Title: Scales
Characters: Soul, Maka
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex. Musical terms, and sex.
Nothing. This is absolutely nothing. Beware of HTML abuse.
Fuck-- fuck. Hands flat against the ivory keys, a knee joining them. One slips across a few, a three-tone scale erupting into the air to join heated breath and attempts at hiding sound. The black dress climbs higher with the hand, milky white thighs becoming revealed and rivaling the piano keys. An odd cacophony of sounds reaches out when he presses two keys at one with his knees and a third and fourth with the hand still on the board; underneath him, on the piano, Maka writhes and entwines her fingers in his hair. Fingers, fingers, fingers; that's all she can think about when she feels his slender fingers skirt up her thigh and tug at the edge of her panties, feel the fabric bunch and tighten slightly at the force. She gasps, and Soul accidentally bites her lip.
They climb a scale today; firsts, seconds, thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths, and they skip to eighths when Maka's foot sudenly comes down eight keys to the right of Soul's gracious fingers. Soul learns Maka's G scale; neck, shoulder, arm, wrist, hip, navel, thigh, that one fucking spot he plays as elegantly with his tongue as he does with his fingers. The mood crescendos, and he's as gentle as he can be when Maka's body gives the order forte. Higher and higher the octaves go; they take a break and ride a blue note, then head into more dangerous territory with a taste of a seventh and a fourth played together. He's not playing with her with his fingers anymore; those are on the piano keys, running along them and picking up a swift tempo. She squirms and he fucks her with his tongue to it; the rhythm and beat are all messed up, paced on how he wants it, not her (he's the fucking composer after all), and she finishes her sonata with a heave-ho, heave-ho. He fingers drift on the edge of a melody and he pulls his head away, licks his lips and lets her climb down beside him.
"Let's learn the D-Minor scale next time, alright?"
Characters: Soul, Maka
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex. Musical terms, and sex.
Nothing. This is absolutely nothing. Beware of HTML abuse.
Fuck-- fuck. Hands flat against the ivory keys, a knee joining them. One slips across a few, a three-tone scale erupting into the air to join heated breath and attempts at hiding sound. The black dress climbs higher with the hand, milky white thighs becoming revealed and rivaling the piano keys. An odd cacophony of sounds reaches out when he presses two keys at one with his knees and a third and fourth with the hand still on the board; underneath him, on the piano, Maka writhes and entwines her fingers in his hair. Fingers, fingers, fingers; that's all she can think about when she feels his slender fingers skirt up her thigh and tug at the edge of her panties, feel the fabric bunch and tighten slightly at the force. She gasps, and Soul accidentally bites her lip.
They climb a scale today; firsts, seconds, thirds, fourths, fifths, sixths, and they skip to eighths when Maka's foot sudenly comes down eight keys to the right of Soul's gracious fingers. Soul learns Maka's G scale; neck, shoulder, arm, wrist, hip, navel, thigh, that one fucking spot he plays as elegantly with his tongue as he does with his fingers. The mood crescendos, and he's as gentle as he can be when Maka's body gives the order forte. Higher and higher the octaves go; they take a break and ride a blue note, then head into more dangerous territory with a taste of a seventh and a fourth played together. He's not playing with her with his fingers anymore; those are on the piano keys, running along them and picking up a swift tempo. She squirms and he fucks her with his tongue to it; the rhythm and beat are all messed up, paced on how he wants it, not her (he's the fucking composer after all), and she finishes her sonata with a heave-ho, heave-ho. He fingers drift on the edge of a melody and he pulls his head away, licks his lips and lets her climb down beside him.
"Let's learn the D-Minor scale next time, alright?"