Friday

BY : shinyquarter
Category: +1 through F > Daria
Dragon prints: 8477
Disclaimer: I do not own Daria, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

This is not intended to have a plot.

Daria, ever the tightly wound control freak, found the best expression of her love to be the softly caring dominance of her love. Silk scarves, never cheap polyester, wrapped loosely around the raven-haired man’s wrists, binding them impermanently to the mahogany headboard in the expensive hotel room. She gazed on his naked body with familiarity, still enjoying the sight and the tiny thrill of possession. This excursion was their longest; an entire weekend had been set aside through various deceptions to family members. Both realized that neither would live it down if their passion was discovered. Therefore, an assumed name and a rented hotel room in Portland, twenty miles over from Lawndale, secured their freedom.

Back to the matter at hand, the peacock feather pinched between Daria’s thumb and forefinger drifted down his tight ribcage, down to twirl around his erection, then up to similarly tweak his nose. He gasped against the light gag in his mouth, straining his hips upward in a futile effort to regain the contact. The brunette above him merely chuckled, loving to watch his muscles flex. She had sworn over and over again to never hurt him in this loveplay; it was the only way he would agree to these experiments. Monique, the bitch, had hurt him once, using a riding crop in such a way to leave a small red weal-shaped scar along his side. Daria remembered this and trailed the feather’s tip across this scar even though she knew it had close to no sensation. The feather’s path continued, across his hip’s points, down one leg, up the other, tantalizingly over his balls in between. She stopped, patient, waiting for the half-frustrated moan she knew would come: there! The moan jumped in decibel level as her tongue painted a wet stripe up his cock, and it morphed into a muffled yelp as she blew hard across him.

Oh, this was delicious to Daria. It had been too long since they had last made love, and now she could barely restrain herself from straddling him immediately. Only the promise of a greater explosion at the end for Trent made her keep her patience. She contented herself with nuzzling his sensitive nipple, the one that was pierced, bringing it to a peak with the ease of practice and love. The soft cotton sheets under her bare legs couldn’t compare in any way to the incredible smoothness of his pale skin. She slid the feather around his neck, from ear to ear where the nerves were strained from the effort of conveying their erotic messages. The feather wound from neck to bicep, being careful not to tickle; while his attention was distracted to his arm, she slid down to hip level to visually feast on her favorite parts. This time, the feather’s path was left uncalculated, flung to the side of the bed as she abandoned her teasing.

She started low and went up. Beginning behind his balls, she traced lazy patterns into the rough hair that he kept short for her. The gasp of surprise and this shift in his legs to make room for her made her smile in pure pleasure, an expression no person on Earth but Trent had ever seen. She planted small, light kisses across his sack, careful not to press too hard. She’d learned that aspect of the male anatomy the hard way. Wetting her lips, she encircled his tip, swirling her tongue over the sensitive ridge. She ran the flat of her tongue over the length of his shaft, wetting it so she could move her head freely. She took advantage of that fact by bobbing her head gently, teeth covered, lips tight, tongue always in motion, taste buds in heaven, and whoops, she’d better stop; she knew that pitch in his gasps that said ‘get while the getting’s good‘.

Lifting her head, she looked to the face of her man, squeezed tight with the force of holding back. Flinging a leg over his waist, she leaned over him to untie the scarves; luckily she had remembered to make the knots easy to undo under pressure. Trent pulled the gag off and, in a heartbeat, wrapped his arms around the brunette and kissed her full force. This time, it was her who groaned in desire, and she slid down around him. Oh, the exquisite filling joy! And oh, the wet smooth heat for him! This would never get old, never get tiresome. With her on top, he could hold out longer; long enough for eager Daria, anyway. On all fours above him, she rotated her hips in the ancient patterns of love and lust with her eyes closed and her countenance blissful. When he snaked a hand between them to touch her pearl, her jaw dropped. When he cupped a breast with his guitar-callused hand, she moaned. And when he thrust with his hips in time to hers, driving deep within her, she gasped aloud as the waves hit her. She saw nothing, heard nothing, only felt the electric pulsating ripples and the incredible rightness of muscles contracting around him. Trent, too, felt the pull, the tightness, and the motion, her beautiful face in happy agony above him ripped away his control, and he grabbed her hips and held on for dear life as they rode each other to Eden.

They awoke a little later, with time enough for dinner in the restaurant below. Both were sticky, exhausted and delightedly satisfied. Despite Daria’s sly suggestion, they showered separately to make their second bout later that night much better smelling. Both lovers, content to be with one another, had the same thought as they rode the elevator down to the lobby: “And this is only Friday night!”



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