Author: Stephanie (gothically)
Content: Drinking, Kissing, Oral, Sex
Rating: Nc-17 / R
Truth or Dare
We were crowded into Armand and Doren’s room for our typical Friday unwinding party. We being Armand, Doren, Vasco, Maxwell, and me; I am Mikolas.
Armand is our resident French seducer. No don’t get me wrong I don’t want him, he is hot, yes; but not my type. He is the play boy of the group; willing to sleep with anyone male or female. With his golden tan skin, short and naturally spiky black locks, smoldering deep blue eyes, and standing at the height of six foot three he easily gets anyone he wants. Doren gets kicked out of the room a few nights but no one really feels bad for him.
Doren is a six foot five, football hunk sweetie. Alas, also not my type. Doren’s broad and muscled shoulders, curly blonde downy hair, sparkling green eyes and bashful smile all cheerfully belong to Vasco, which is who Doren goes to when Armand gets lucky and needs to take over the room for the night.
Vasco is an art student from Portugal, and speaks with a most sexy accent. But don’t let the art fool you, he is the uncontested dominate in their relationship. Which is amusing as he stands at five foot ten and is slim and lithe. His silky mocha locks hang to his chin and gently curl around his fine boned face. His brown eyes are shot through with honey streaks.
Maxwell is my crush, but he doesn’t know, at least I hope he doesn’t know. I think he is straight; which sucks. He is six foot two, short black hair; which I swear shines blue in the right light; and these stormy eyes. They change from crystal blue to grey to emerald green and any combination in between, responding to his emotions or what he is wearing. Right now he is in these sinful tight black jeans and a plain white t-shirt, so his eyes are a smoky blue. He is a starter forward for the schools soccer team, the lead scorer and co-captain. It is glorious to watch their practice, as they usually end up shirtless; my favorite hobby.
That leaves me. Well I’m the short one at five foot seven. I have a lithe build, more to do with my fast metabolism then sports. I have frustrating light brown locks that fall into my eyes; the only cool thing about my hair is I have natural reddish highlights. My eyes are narrow and slanted and Vasco once said that the color looked like if some one was able to meld honey and hot cocoa together. I major in English with a focus on writing. Vasco and I are going to collaborate on kids books one day. My other favorite hobby is photography. I have a whole album dedicated to Maxwell. I also have a history of depression; the only one here that knows this is Doren, as we went to high school together. Well, and he saved my life one day. He found me cutting in the school bathroom and dragged me to the nurse. He became my confidant after that. He really helped me get my life back. But anyway back to the present.
Our weekly ritual is to meet up in Armand and Doren’s room to chill; we watch movies, play board or trivia games or the age old getting drunk. Armand is the one who brings up the idea that we play truth or dare.
“Isn’t that a girly thing to play?” Maxwell’s deep voice flows over my like a velvet covering. I have gotten good at hiding my reactions to his voice alone. Armand smirks and pulls out a bottle of Rum, my personal favorite.
“Not, my friend, if we play with this.” He swirls the bottle and my eyes are riveted to the revolving amber liquid. I licked my lips, unaware of a pair of now stormy green eyes riveted to my mouth.
“If some one doesn’t like their truth nor dare they can ask for the other, the penalty being they need to take a shot of rum and if they don’t want to do the other option then they have to take another shot.” Armand finished and smirked at the group. “Of course if you can’t hold your liquor you might want to sit out.” He said this with a sly look at me. My head turned to the floor upon hearing a growl. Maxell was there and glaring at Armand. I’m confused because Maxwell is very good at holding his liquor, better then me anyway. When I get drunk I tend to ramble. I tend to ramble in Italian. Fortunately Maxwell takes Spanish. Because the last time I drank to much I said something to the affect of how one of my ultimate fantasies would be to have Maxwell take me, dominate me, right after he wins a hard game. Doren told me this, as I don’t really remember, and he is the only one in the group who speaks Italian, fortunately! But it is very fortunate that the others take French (Armand), Spanish (Maxwell), or German (Vasco, as he refused to take Spanish and he already knows French).
We all take our seats on the floor, each with our own shot glass in front of us. We all have different glasses. Armand’s is a heavy red crystal textured glass. Doren’s has the decal of is favorite football team, the Carolina Panthers. Vasco’s glass is set into silver webbing; I believe he made it himself. Maxwell’s has the logo of his favorite soccer team, Newcastle United. My own was a gift from my older brother, it has the ouroboros circling the Celtic tree etched into it.
Armand poured us each a shot which we each downed as a “chipping in” shot. Like the first round of betting in poker.
“Alright” Vasco said in his lilting accent. “I’ll go first.” He leered at Doren. “So sweetie, truth or dare?” Doren sighed deeply before stating he would accept a dare. Vasco’s eyes gleamed with success as he informed his submissive lover that his dare was to give him a strip tease in front of all of us, but that he could stop at the boxers; claiming that that sight was only for him to see. Armand turned on the song “I’m too sexy” which surprised no one that he had that on his ipod. Doren blushed deeply and sighed again as he began to strip out of his tank. I watched Vasco as he started to drool as inch by inch of smooth sunshine skin was revealed. Muscles flexing wonderfully as his shirt came up over his head. He tossed the shirt onto his bed before reaching for his zipper. I listened to the slow sound of the fastening coming undone. Thumbs hooked into the front belt loops and spread the two sides. He was lucky that he was barefoot so nothing got in his way as he slowly pushed the pants down his legs to kick them off. He stood in the center of us in Nightmare Before Christmas boxers, he bent down and licked a path up his pleased dominant’s neck before sitting down and claiming it was his turn. At which point he smirked evilly at me. I gulped, I had not had enough to drink yet to not be embarrassed to whatever he would have me admit or do.
“Mikolas, truth or dare?” He drawled. I had no choice really. I if picked truth I know he would have me reveal my crushes name, something I wasn’t ready to do. So I bravely stammered out dare. The damn blonde pouted at that, upset that I figured him out. He thought in silence for a minute before his green eyes alighted with happiness.
“Ok Miko-chan.” Let me tell you it is an odd thing to be called chan when one I’m not female and two I’m not Japanese. But the football player was addicted to anime and I was the most feminine one of the group so I got stuck with it. Doren stood up and went into his closet. Upon coming back out he returned with a box, he held it out to me. “Your dare is to put on what is inside this box and remain in it for the duration of the game.” I look wearily at the box with an eyebrow raised. I extend a hand to grasp the offered box and he nods his head the attached bathroom, to which I quickly make my way.
I set the box on the closed toilet seat before cautiously opening it. Gasping when I saw what lay within. Their was a pair of getas and a deep red obi and underneath there is a folded kimono. I took out the getas and set them on the floor. I gently lifted the kimono out from under the obi and let it unfold. The base color was amber and the edges were lined in a soft yellow, an autumn color scheme that matched my own coloring well. I slipped it on letting the think cloth settle around my body. I folded the two flaps one over the other, pulling the softness flush with my skin and sighing. Doren probably meant this as a joke, but I to love the Japanese culture. Small maple leaves were printed along the bottom seam of the covering fold, the opposite collar had three under it and a few were on each of the large hollow sleeves. They varied in color from yellow-orange to the red that only fall maples can reach, these were outlined in black stitching to help them stand out. I wrapped the dark maroon obi around my middle before tying it into a large bow in the back; it reached from my waist to the bottom of my pectoral muscles. I looked at myself in the mirror, and blushed. Doren was going to rag on me for this. I really did look like a chan now. I folded my cloths and left them in the box on the toilet before slipping on my getas. Self-consciously I smoothed out the kimono before laying my hand on the door knob.
I stepped out with my head down refusing to look at anyone as I made my way to my seat, which happened to be next to Maxwell. Doren whistled at me followed by Vasco who demanded I wear the kimono another time and let him paint me. Mutely I nodded and sat down Japanese style, kneeling while sitting with my feet tucked under my butt, as to not damage the beautiful kimono I was wearing. Wincing I reached back and removed the getas and set them next to me.
“Miko-chan, happy early birthday.” The voice was bubbly. Some times it was heard to believe that this was one of our starting tackles for the school’s football team. My head came up to stare at Doren before my eyes opened wide with remembrance. My birthday was in a week; honestly it had slipped my mind.
“Domo arigato gozaimashita, Doren-sama.” I reply meekly while bowing. I may not be Japanese but I have studied them almost obsessively. He nodded back and reminded me that is was my turn. There was smugness in his voice I didn’t want to think about.
“Armand, truth our dare.” Go me! I didn’t stammer. Damn, this kimono is really comfortable.
“Truth.” My shoulders slumped; I wanted to dare him to go without sex for a week. He would have taken the shot instead but it would have been amusing to see his reaction to it.
“Okay, I’m sure we are all curious. How many teachers have you slept with?” The initial response was a smirk and a deep chuckle.
“Three, two in high school and one here.” I squeaked and asked who he managed to sleep with here. “Now, now, Miko-chan that is two truths.”
“Okay Maxwell that leaves you for round one. Truth or Dare?” Maxwell grunted and narrowed his grey eyes at the French student. He decided to accept a dare. I knew it was trouble when I heard Armand chuckle that evil laugh.
“I dare you to give innocent little Miko-Chan here his first kiss.” I blushed then paled then blushed again and stared at my lap. Did Armand know? No, he couldn’t have known. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice as my crush moved into a sitting position right next to me until one calloused hand gently cupped my face and tilted my head up so he could place a chaste kiss on my lips. My eyes widen in shock and I gasp causing the soccer player to laugh lowly before he returned to his place on the rug. I hold back a moan as his hand left my face. He then turned to Vasco who accepted a truth, and admitted that he had only ever been with Doren.
The game continued with some hilarious dares and surprising truths and a few shots taken. The rum had made me warm and there was a blush stained on my cheeks. Armand shaves his legs, Doren can sing, Vasco has a fetish with painting on Doren, Maxwell took dance for six years, and I admitted to still keeping an old stuffed teddy named Mr. Bear on my bed. Some of the dares include prank calling, an attempt to seduce the floor leader (Maxwell, jealousy makes the heart hurt), and other stupid things. It became Doren’s turn again and instead of putting me on the spot he turned to Maxwell. I raised an eye brow, interested to see where this was going. Maxwell’s acceptance of a dare made my body shiver. How many shots have I had by now; six or seven? I focus on Doren’s voice.
“I dare you, Maxwell, to show Mikolas how you feel about him.” My mind reeled. Show? What was he talking about? My attention snaps back into focus when a warm hand lay against the small of my back, Maxwell’s hand. My eyes travel the length of his arm over his shoulder and up his face to rest on deep green eyes that sparkled with flecks of blue. I’m caught in his eyes as the hand drifts up over the obi to the shoulder farthest from him and he grips me lightly. With this leverage he tugs me around to face him. Pulling me from my sitting position to lean on his arm, he than slowly lowers me to the floor so I’m sprawled out next to him. I watch silently as he moves to kneel between my legs forcing them to part. He leans down to cover me as the kimono bears on of my legs. Sport roughened hands support my neck as Maxwell leans towards me, I hold my breath. Multi-colored eyes drift close as a pair of chapped lips covers my own. This is nothing like the kiss he granted me before. This one quickly becomes passionate as a tongue slips its way into my mouth and my eyelid flutter shut. Fingers curl in my hair, the other drifts down to the bare skin of my thigh. I bring my hands up to grasp his shoulders, to keep him there. But we need to breath, pity. I sigh as he pulls back; placing gentle kisses down my jaw to the sensitive skin of my neck, where he places one last firm kiss. The hand in my hair slides around to cusp my face and I reluctantly open my eyes. A gentle smile in that handsome face greets my sight.
“I think I’m in love with you Mikolas.” His velvet confession brushes my face as gentle as a lovers adoring caress. I bring my own hand up to trace his cheek; I smile softly at this god I’ve seemed to have won.
“I think I’m in love with you as well Maxwell.” I watch in awe as my few simple words brighten his whole countenance and he swoops down to capture my lips in a soul steal kiss. I melt into it. I have adored this man. Watched him from afar. And now in capturing him, quite unexpectedly, I found that it is he who owns me. From here on out I belong to no one but this man, this god that is my own.
We break from our kiss and are greeted with wolf whistles causing me to blush. I vaguely hear Doren’s voice claiming that it was about time the sexual tension between us was dealt with. Maxwell’s pink lips smirk at me and I feel his hands gather at my waist. In one oddly graceful movement he stands bringing me with him. The kimono falls back into place. Strong arms hold me against a sold chest. I feel his voice vibrating against my hands that had come to rest on his chest when he pulled us to our feet. I miss what he says but he soon takes me by the hand and leads me from the room, leaving my new getas behind. His hand is warm, solid, strong, and gentile around mine, secure. We make it to his room done the hall; fortunately he lives in one of the few singles in the dorm. He shuts and locks the door behind us before he turns to stare at me. I clasp my hands in front of me, trying not to wring them, which is a nervous habit of mine. His hands reach out to grasp mine; he tugs me forward and lets my hands rest on his broad shoulders as he rests his on the swell of my hips. A husky voice reaches my ears.
“You are so beautiful to me Miko. Please, be mine.” He is begging with every inch of his body, his eyes praying in color that I will not damn him with my answer.
But I fear I will. I never could be worthy of him, and this saddens me. This could end so badly, in so much pain. But I need this; I need to feel loved romantically. I need to be wanted, cared for, cherished. So I’ll be selfish, I claim this god as mine until he finds my secrets. My oh so dark and ugly secrets. But until then, until it has to hurt, I need this.
I nod my acceptance and am rewarded with another mind stopping kiss. I lose my ability to think; he takes away that curse and replaces it with feeling. Simply the touch of him on me, around me, sheltering, securing, keeping and loving.
We slowly move toward the center of the dark room, not bothering to turn on the lights or to break our kiss. Finally he steps back and in his lust filled voice orders me to remove my obi, his voice sends shivers of pleasure through me. He removes his t-shirt and tosses it into the corner. I fumble with the bow before it slides loose; I unwind it from my body and place it on his desk chair. But this caused me to turn my back on him, which he took advantage of. Before I could turn around he is pressed to my back. I lean against his solid form as his hands slide between the openings of my kimono. Calloused fingers whisper across my stomach and chest, teasing whimpers to spill from my lips. His mouth finds my neck and he sweetly lavishes attention there tempting moans to join my whimpers.
I turn in his embrace and slowly dropped to my knees, the kimono pooled around me hanging from my shoulders. Hesitantly I lowered his pant’s zipper; I had never done this before. I can see his member already straining against the hold of his dark blue boxers. I ease my hand into the slit in the boxers and ease his penis through. I let it rest in my hands, feeling the weight of him. Shyly I lick at the head of it and a stifled groan reaches my ears pulling my attention upwards to darkened eyes.
“Don’t stop.” He begs in his coarse voice, I feel a small flare of pride. I do this to him. I ease the head into my mouth sucking gently. I curl my tongue around the width of him and moan, which causes a chain reaction from the form now hunched over my. A warm and heavy hand resting on my shoulder; the other around my neck fingers threaded into my hair again. I ease him deeper, struggling to relax my jaw when his member bumps into the back of my throat and to my surprise he slides in deeper, my mouth is almost to his base. But I can take no more. I move back, sucking hard as I go. The fingers clutch my shoulder and hair. Pulling off of him I place a few kisses around his tip, licking up his shaft and nuzzling him where thigh meets groin, this causes him to shudder. He tugs gently on my hair, bringing me to my feet before kissing my forcefully. Invading my mouth with his tongue, pulling me close to his body until we are to tightly pressed together we could get no closer. This leaves my clutching on to him, knees weak and mind completely over run with pleasure. I gasp for much need air when he pulls back. He then attacks my neck, using teeth. He tugs on the sensitive skin biting hard enough to leave bruises there, licking apologetically, kissing and nibbling until I’m reduced to keening.
His arms around my waist under the thick drape of the kimono are warm and tight, and all that are keeping me on my feet. I drop my arms from around his neck and let the kimono fall of me in a heavy wave. He catches it with one hand and leans over to carefully lay it across the back of his chair before returning his attention to me. My hands are at his pants gently tugging. This earns me a smirk as he steps back and with smoldering eyes he takes in my nude form. Those broad hands pull his pants and boxers down and he tosses them to where his t-shirt lays.
Then he is back to me, aligned against my body, skin finally rejoicing against skin. Hands explore each others bodies. Lips and tongues explore mouths, and kisses map out faces. Before long he scoops my up and tenderly lays me out on his bed. He pulls something out of his desk drawer and climbs up and braces himself above me on all fours. Leaning down he captures my lips in a surprisingly soft kiss before he pulls away and moves down my body. Kissing and licking as he goes. He creates a path from my neck to a nipple; he sucks on it and I gasp arching my back and into his body. He chuckles as he firmly pushes me back to the mattress and licks my other nipple before tugging on it with his teeth, hands bracing me from arching again.
That sinfully hot mouth moves down over my abdomen and a tongue trust itself into my belly button, I whined and clutched at his bed sheets. Teeth found my protruding hip bones and gnawed carefully there, moving slowly down to my thigh. Where they found the hyper sensitive flesh of the inner thigh. He worked his way down one thigh and then up the other, his tongue teased the skin behind my knees. I barely notice that his hands have disappeared until one is placed low on my hip bone, fingers played over my lower abdomen, the other places a slick finger at me entrance but I am distracted when that hot mouth engulfs my own penis. I cry out and arch into that heat.
His finger works it’s way inside of my, moving in and out until a second one joins. It burns mildly but he distracts me with his mouth, now humming around me, and I can not control my body’s shaking. A third finger joins and I tense up, he pulls off of me. He moves up to kiss me sweetly on the mouth, whispering to me that it is alright, that I need to relax, that it will feel better. A hand carding its way through my hair calms me down enough to relax my taunt muscles. His presses butterfly kisses to my neck as he slowly starts to scissor his fingers, stretching me so I won’t hurt when he enters me.
The burn soon fades and I’m moaning again. More, I need more. I must have said it aloud because Maxwell is soon kneeling between my legs, pulling his fingers from my body. I cry out at the loss and he apologizes by dotting kisses up my thigh as he slicks himself up with the lube he had taken from his desk.
One hand on the bed next to my hip braces him as the other guides him to my entrance. I try to remain relaxed as his engorged member presses itself to my opening. He places a little pressure behind it so just his head eases into my body. Once in that far the hand holding himself is replaced onto my thigh, pushing it out, spreading me for him a little more. With great restraint he presses carefully into my body, moving steadily but never moving fast. It is forever before our groins are snuggly fit together and he is seated completely within me. I heave a deep sigh, this fullness; this completeness is the best I have ever felt.
I feel his fingers tighten on my thigh as he starts an agonizing slow drift out, I whimper and clutch my body around his, pulling a groan from deep within his throat. Once only his head remained inside he pushed back in at an equally slow pace. This was torture, it had to be. I arched my head back, baring my throat and keened as he continued in and out at this cruel slow pace. It isn’t long before I’m writhing on the bed, begging, pleading with my god for more, anything, everything, just more then this tender pace.
My begging is rewarded with a quick kiss as he picks up the pace, brush that sensitive spot inside me harder. My vision goes white and there is nothing but his body over mine, inside of mine. Moving faster and harder, straining. The hand on my thigh grips harder, I know I’ll bruise but I relish in it. It soon moves to my own erection, pumping it in time with the thrusts. I soon cum with a scream and my mind forgets my body and soars in heaven. My body’s convulsing around him finishes Maxwell off and he bites my neck as he explodes inside of me, pulling me back into my body. I feel him collapse onto me.
Weak, I feel weak. But sated, secure, safe, loved; yes this is love. Weak but loved. I sigh and blink open my eyes. Maxwell is looking at me, his eyes are predominantly green with light blue flecks in them, he smile softly and pulls cautiously out of my body. Running a reassuring hand up and down my side as I wince. He reaches up and takes a tissue off of his desk and gently wipes the cooling cum from my body, I smile at the attention. Tossing the tissue away he lays down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me to him.
A kiss is lovingly pressed to my forehead and a gentle hand drifts up and down my back lulling me to sleep. As I surrender to sleep Maxwell’s voice floats through my haze of satisfaction.
“Sweet dreams my love.” I give him a squeeze with my arms and press a kiss to the accessible chest under my head. This is happiness, this is being in love.