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Wanting You Derek Souza woke up in a cold sweat, cool air licking his feverish skin as the sheets pooled around his hips. He wasn’t quite sure what had woken him—the soft wind outside, a creak in the age-old floorboards maybe, the scrape of nude tree branches against the siding from billowing in the wind, or maybe it was his own disruption, a jerk from his dreams or he hit his hand on something while he tossed about—but, as he drank in the cool night air eagerly, his sluggish brain’s cogs turned fiercely, rust falling away. It normally wasn't so blisteringly hot in his room, especially not in New York, but it was nearly stifling, a heavy, wet humidity that pressed in on all sides and made his lungs work double-time. Someone was kissing him, moaning into his mouth, he remembered, little hands running up and down his chest, into his hair, tugging painfully, swollen wet heat grinding down against his cock, so hot and undeniably soaked, slicking the fabric, soaking through it. “Derek,” the girl had moaned so softly, and his cock throbbed, aching to slide into her tight cunt, to take her, to fuck her brains out and taste her pretty pink nipples, watch her half-lidded eyes prickle with pleasurable tears. He’d latched onto her mouth, swiping his tongue in, sucking away her moans as he tugged on her tongue, sucking the appendage between his teeth tenderly. Her hands drifted down, fumbling with his shorts and, finally, his cock was free. Veins rolled up the sides, swollen with blood, the head leaking precum down the sides, a red-purple color. Then, carefully, she pulled away, rolled back onto her heels and wrapped her tiny, delicate fingers around the largest part of his shaft. His cock rubbed against her insides. “Chloe,” he said. The next morning, Derek found himself sitting on the other side of the tiny island, eating his cereal one Cheerio at a time while he avoided Chloe’s innocent eyes. If he looked at her, he’d think of the dream, wet eyes glazed with pleasure, and things would surely go downhill from there. What would Lauren say if he attacked her precious, little niece and fucked her brains out? “It seems like it’ll be a nice day,” Chloe said offhandedly, breaking the silence as she spread butter on a piece of toast, licking away the butter that got on her fingers with the flat of her pink little tongue and he’d be damned if it didn't make him even harder, his cock pressing against the seam of the crotch of his jeans. He clenched his hand around the fork, fiercely, as she finally turned to him, licking a little piece of butter from the edge of her wrist bone. “Derek, the fork,” she said, eyes locked on his hand in surprise, although a tinge of pink colored her cream cheeks. They glanced down together and found the poor utensil hanging in two pieces, his hand slightly bloody from where the ragged ends had pinched the skin. “You okay?” She reached across the smooth stone island and touched his forearm; his cock strained against the confines of his jeans, truly painful now, and precum oozed out, leaking through his underwear, making a wet spot on his jeans. “You don't look okay,” she told him quietly, ripping off a hunk of her toast and picking at the flakes of crust. Opening his mouth, Derek debated his response. Could he lie and say it was just really hot? No, she wasn't even slightly pink with heat. That time for Change? No, that had been last week, he remembered because Chloe had been on her period and looked so embarrassed when he smelt the blood and offered his sweatshirt when she leaked in her favorite pajama pants to wear when he Changed. “I'm—” he began but the breath was knocked out of him when he smelt it. Musky, tangy, and wet, so wet. He glanced into her eyes and her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. The musky scent strengthened. When he looked down, his fingers nearly had gauged four huge cracks with the pressure of his hand grabbing the island, and he took a breathe to calm himself down. Derek shook his head, unable to help the way his nostrils flared to inhale more that smell. Christ, it was divine, mouthwatering, so hot and wet, sticky. The thought froze in his brain, locked like a deer in the headlights as he realized he was, in fact, familiar with it. It was the same smell his room reeked of after last night’s dream, with Chloe bouncing on his cock and gasping, shivering, her little mouth open in short moans, choked off by every thrust into her tight pussy. “What happened?” Lauren’s voice sounded far too close and that shook Derek awake. “I-I…he just…it broke off!” Broke off what? He squinted down at his left hand. Nothing. Then he looked at his right hand and something in his brain went wild with surprise and panic. How could he have not felt the huge chunk of stone now sitting, crumbled, in his hand? His hand was bright red, skin flushed with blood zooming beneath the surface like the site of a slap; his fingers throbbed as he took in the torn skin on his fingertips, like little callouses after working outside for so long. In fact, it looked like popped callouses, pieces of transparent white skin hanging around the wounds. “Damn,” he said once he found his voice, albeit raspier and huskier than he would have liked and he saw Chloe’s cheeks turn cherry-red, setting off the creamy color of her heaving chest, her eyes glittering sapphires. The smell of her arousal was overpowering and he took a huge whiff, disguising it as a breath, and fought back the shudder that threatened to tiptoe down his spine. Kit told him he was lucky. Derek couldn't disagree, if he had to be completely honest because 1) he didn't break any bones in his hand, 2) he found out Chloe was, at the least, lusting for him and 3) he was finally left alone. Lauren had decided to go grocery shopping and dragged Chloe along, which left him alone in the big, lonely house. Since Lauren didn't like driving, Kit had to take them. Tori and Simon were off with their significant others on dates in town, so it was just Derek in the house. Alone. He decided to do some laundry and started for his room. Laundry had him thinking about Chloe, and reminded him of the smell of her arousal. His dick sprang to life and, quickly stealing a glance around, saw no one around. No Tori to mock him about getting a hard on, no Lauren breathing down his neck, and, most importantly, no Chloe to make his situation even worse. He began to tiptoe upstairs before he remembered that everyone was gone and jogged up the stairs, cock huge and swollen and sensitive in his jeans. He’d never been inside Chloe’s room, and now he was sneaking inside…to steal a pair of panties. Pathetic, he knew, but he couldn’t get the image of her cunt dripping in them, soaking them, maybe she even rubbed her clit in them, thrumming with energy as she mewled and gasped. Scowling at his hard cock, he opened the door to her room, assaulted with her sweet, sweet smell. Her room was a chaotic mess of strewn clothes—bras, t-shirts, skirts, pajama pants—and he crouched down, scooping up a bra. She was a sweet, succulent handful at 32 B. He growled softly to himself and stepped around the mounds of crumpled clothing, drawing closer and closer to the thickest smell of her arousal: the closet. He licked his dry lips, parched, and pulled open the doors. Her smell assaulted him, thick and over powering. The white laundry hamper stood next to her shoes and right on top of the mounds of dirty clothes, jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts and socks and panties, was a pair of still wet panties, with little hearts all over them. He had to admit, it was cute, the innocent designs all over her bikini-cut underwear but he thought of her cunt all over and suddenly, it wasn’t innocent anymore. The smell of pizza assault Derek’s sensitive nose. He opened the door to his bedroom, withdrew the panties, and held them to his nose. After a huge whiff, he stuck them into the gap between the wall and his bed and then headed downstairs, head swimming with Chloe’s scent, his jeans almost painfully tight. Shit, he thought dimly as he walked closer, barefoot. Belatedly, he realized smelling her panties before heading out probably wasn't the best idea, but he shrugged it off. His sweatshirt covered his bulging cock, so he was good until he could cum all over his hand, smelling Chloe’s wet panties. “I’ll get the door,” she said, light as a breeze, and darted down the walkway, flip flops clapping with every step; he followed closely behind. From this distance, he could see the swing of her hips and the pantyline on her yoga pants as he walked along briskly, his arms full of cardboard. Concentrate, he told himself, grinding his teeth against the sight of her backside, concentrate on the pizza. Jesus, could they have cooled it down a little? It feels like my arms around being burnt extra crispy. “We have cheese, pepperoni, and supreme. Which one do you want?” She was too short so she stood on her tiptoes and peered at the boxes. He slid in behind her and, holding his breath, tentatively placed his hands on her hips. In an instant, she froze, an Chloe-sized block of ice, but her cheeks flushed and the smell of arousal rushed at him. Derek gritted his teeth against the urge to rut against her like an animal. “What do I want?” he murmured, pressing his chin against the top of her head; she rocked slightly, shifting her weight, and he hissed in surprise when she rubbed up against his hard on. For a long minute, neither of them breathed. “D-Der—”she mewled, pressing her ass against him and he squeezed her breasts through her shirt; her nipples poked out against the flimsy material of her bra. Christ, he was so hard. Abruptly, the front door crashed open and he shuffled away. Shame washed over him at taking advantage of such an innocent girl and he leaned against the counter for support. “Shit,” he gasped out, his voice strained, “I’m so…fucking hell, Chlo. I’m so—sorry. I know—I’ just gonna go. Fuck.” She had this wide-eyed look as he backed away. You stupid piece of shit. How could you do that to her? Force yourself on her like that? I thought you were a-a gentleman, at least in that sense! Managing to scramble up the stairs without falling, he nearly sprinted to his room. He eased into it and closed the door firmly behind him. Satisfied with his isolation, he made a beeline to the bathroom, his cock straining; his fingers shook as he struggled to get the zipper down, his cock huge and hot. Once he managed to get his jeans off, he found he was tense, coiled tight. |
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