Terrell and Diramina

After the whirlwind, it feels as if gravity regains its hold and everything is heavy again. He lets my legs go and crouches slightly so I can stand and quake while he slides out of me. He seems to wince at the sight of my body, and I dazedly wonder why.

My arms are still draped around his neck, and he steps in tentatively to place soft kisses on my lips. My fingers are just starting to curl around his shoulders when he steps back, subdued again.

"Didn't mean to do that," he breathes, whisking the blanket off the floor and pulling me off of the door to wrap it around me.

"Huh?" I'm still buzzing from his touches, freshly opened, filled, and probably soon to be dribbling his seed down my leg.

His eyes are still trailing all over me, even though I'm now shapeless and sweating under the lump of covers.

"Attacked you, and I didn't even..." he breathes deeply a few more times, finally meeting my eyes. "Forgot protection and all that. Shit."

I feel a smile trail across my face, and at the same time the semen starts oozing back out of me. I've been well-fucked, and I plan for him to do it again. "You said you were fucking me on sight. You meant it."

He almost summons enough gruffness to make a stern, mannish face, but just ends up hugging my body to his. "D'Mina... I thought you ended the... whatever this is."

Realization makes me hug him harder. "That's what I thought you did. I was scared." I throw the blanket back off my shoulders and he gingerly wraps his arms back around my body.

...

"You walked from the barn?"

I nod, mouth full of cocoa puffs.

"There's no rhyme or reason to this, then. You've been appearing in the house for the last two months, and then it puts you back outside." Terrell downs the rest of his water and I watch a drop run down his chin, then trail down his throat. He fucked me fully clothed, and the only sign of mess is the spattering of fluid on his jeans.

I'm trying to stay focused, but I'm gearing up towards opening my legs and waving him over. "And the fact that it's been almost a month. I could ask my grandmother about it again, but..."

"No, don't," he urges, wiping at the water running down his neck. "Who knows what she'll change next."

"But what happens next? I don't..." I look down at the swirling brown milk in my bowl, and try to summon words without acute embarrassment. "This is a match casting, right? I don't know what's supposed to happen after this part."

He snorts. "Which part, us confessing that we like each other, or me trying to drill you into the door in the hallway?"

"I know it's not your usual, but if you ask me, you backed up your words pretty well." I'm trying not to follow up with a lecherous grin.

"D. I didn't mean to just take you like that, I had planned to make it special," he says morosely from the counter. "The only thing I knew was that you hadn't been here for ages, and as soon as I saw you I was going to... make sure you knew you were mine," he finishes with a grimace.

I know he's not trying to seduce me, so I'm struggling to find words that are more sympathetic than 'fuck me.' He looks disappointed.

"Terrell, there's time for romance, don't worry. And besides, you ravished me like a gentleman, it felt amazing." This last part comes out on a giggle, but I hope he feels a bit better.

Silence from his end, and I look up. He's tapping irritated fingers on the counter, staring me down.

"You okay?"

"So you're mine."

"Ah- if you want to put it that way, I-"

"I want you to say it. You belong to me."

"Terrell, be fucking for real," I giggle again, downing the rest of my bowl and bringing it to the sink beside him. But my nerves are dancing at the thought of it.

My face is pressed against the counter in an instant, and he's tugging my pants back down my hips.

"Fucking for real. You've been dripping this whole time," he accuses, petting and stroking the wet skin I can't see.

"Well-"

"I'm gonna make sure you know you're mine again," he says, covering my left hand with his and sweeping the other over my naked legs. Silence for a beat, until his hand comes up to the back of my neck, turning my face to the side to look at his already beading with sweat and hesitation. "You want me to?"

I spread my legs out further apart and grin up at him. "Fuck your pussy."

I discover that I'm actually quite sore from earlier when he eases back into me. The places where his fingers gripped my body, the point where his skin slapped repetitively into mine. All thoroughly used, making me groan and shift now with every movement in biting pleasure.

"I fucked the hell outta you," Terrell laments, tracing his hands along my back and thighs. He sighs as he slides and slots himself back into me, the front of his thighs nestling against the back of mine.

"No," I disagree, flipping my head to lay the other cheek on the cool countertop. On the next gentle thrust, I push my body back against his and feel that delicious pressure of him hilting back into me. "Fuck."

"You're not in charge here," he responds, reasserting his position by laying a hand on my back and wrapping the other around my already tender hip. He controls my body for the next few moments, holding me stock still while he smoothly riles me up.

"Terrell, I really need you to just-"

"You asked me to fuck my pussy," he reminds me. "I fuck my things however I want."

I want to claw at the counter beneath me as he continues a frustratingly slow build. A gentle wave rolls through me, and I feel like a stallion being ridden like a pony.

"I need to come."

"Do you?" he teases, petting my sore back with damp hands before teasing at my clit, making me jump.

"Not like this, Terrell. Please... harder."

"No." He's hunched over my back now, slippery fingers roving under the hood of my clit while he delivers smooth, short thrusts into my pussy. The sensations are too big, too sharp. It's triggering the nerves at the front and I can't stop quivering over him, and I realize I'm being played into coming in the most grueling way possible.

Tense moments pass between us, and he starts panting above me. I'm swollen and hissing at his fingers now, unsure if it's teetered over into pain yet. When I start wriggling against the counter he traps my body under his, still stroking into me and dragging pruny fingertips over my clit.

"See? Mine," Terrell says, satisfied at the soft heaving breaths coming from my chest.

I can only moan on a wobbly riff, immobilized, as the knife finally shoots through me, the wicked edge of it making my body sing a rapturous note for as long as he keeps sawing his fingers over my nerves.

I feel the edges of my mind start dissolving and he finally lets me down, running calming hands over my shaking body.

"Fmmm."

"Mmhmm," he agrees, sliding himself out of me. Strings of my own cum are connecting us until he takes his dick in hand, breaking them so that they fall down my thighs. "Marking what's mine now," he says confidently.

His body shudders against mine for a few moments, and he thumbs at my sloppy lips, I suppose watching more evidence of his possession dribble out, until his own wet, warm ropes start spewing out over my ass. He grumbles behind me, finally content and admiring the final scene of his performance. I'd laugh if I hadn't been taken for such a ride.

"This is what I mean, D'Mina," Terrell says, kissing my shoulder before backing away and leaving me crumpled over the counter.

I see no problem with this.

...

He won't let me come outside with him again, and when I insist that I want to see the sheep, he kisses me back down the hall.

"Make dinner for me."

"You want me to be the picture of domesticity, huh?"

A hand presses its way firmly from my thigh to my waist. "For tonight," he decides, with an indifferent scowl. "I want either a home cooked meal or you laid out on that table."

I take my happy ass on into the kitchen and start pulling ingredients out of the cabinets, and I hear him chuckling as he goes back down the hall.

Sweet rolls, pork chops and cauliflower in cheese sauce. I've never seen a fresh vegetable in his freezer, and I wonder if he just doesn't have access to them in this dimension. Probably simpler to get them frozen.

I refrain from making dessert; if he wants something sweet, he can just lay me out on the table. The thought makes me smile as I monitor the rising dough and marinating meat, although it turns to wondering again, what comes next?

It would've been an obvious question for Sia or Grandma, but I'd never considered the fact that this insane arrangement would work out, so I never asked.

And Terrell, what's his view on this? Does he want a wife, a girlfriend, kids, more dogs? I feel vague and uncertain, watching the sun sink further towards the hills. The house begins to fill with the scent of a good meal as everything cooks, and in my mind's eye I imagine my father standing at the stove beside me, partitioning smooth, soft dough balls to fit snugly into a pan dusted with cornstarch.

And I realize that if we're staying together, the next step is meeting the parents.

By the time he comes back in, I've raided his closet for another flannel shirt and am lounging on the couch, proud that I haven't lifted a finger to do anything else. The dogs barrel in and snuffle around my bare legs as I rise to provoke the man hanging his coat at the door.

"How do you like your porkchops?"

"My... what?" he turns his head, still tugging at his boots, and begins to tip over. "Roaming around my place with no clothes on again."

"How do you like your porkchop cooked? I don't judge, I'll burn it for you."

He leans against the door, openly studying the bottom of the shirt just brushing the tops of my thighs. "Uh... not oinking, not charred to the depths of Hell either, maybe somewhere in the middle. Come here for a minute."

I turn on my heel and march down the hallway, leaving him to struggle with his other boot. "Go on and wash up so I can serve you like a good little woman, Terrell."

I do serve him, and feel genuine joy in doing it. ...At least in this honeymoon phase of things, it feels nice. He catches me around my waist as I'm bringing my own plate to the table, drawing me down to his lap. "Stay awhile."

"Stay awhile, for the duration of the meal? Your leg's not gonna fall asleep?"

"You might disappear on me," he explains, securing a hand around the meat of my thigh and the other around his fork.

"Mm. That's a point. Dunno if it's a good one, but I'll humor it."

I don't hear anything from him until most of his plate is gone, and what's out of his mouth is goofy and delivered with a smile. "Well woman, you didn't serve it with a tall glass of sweet tea, but this'll do."

The offended sound I make makes him laugh from his belly, jostling me so that he wraps his other arm around my middle to keep me secure on his leg. He presses his face into my back, nipping at my shoulder blades through the shirt I pilfered from his closet.

"Have black tea and enough sugar to power three school buses of elementary students in the cabinet and you can have it next time," I decide. "If I still feel like cooking for your tired old 'stay in the kitchen' ass."

He chuckles, his chin now hooked over my arm, and starts gliding his long-stationary hand over my thigh. "Mm. What else can I have?"

And just like that, I'm ready to go, dropping my own hand to the waist of his pants and setting to work.

"Hold on a minute, let me enjoy myself first," he urges, brushing my hand away. He shifts under me for better access to the buttons of my- his shirt, and I feel the leg I'm straddling flex.

"You got to control the first couple times," I complain, hearing his sigh as he smooths a warm hand over my breast. "Let's..."

"Let's what?" he asks innocently, fingers both at a tortured nipple and a swelling clit. He shifts for more access and his leg slides under me again, bringing a deep, moaning breath from my chest. He sighs, and his hands drop from my body.

I take the chance to stand, and he doesn't stop me. I look behind me, and he's waiting, hands resting on his knees. I walk towards the bottom of the stairs and look to him again.

"Last door on the right."

I start up the stairs, hearing swift steps coming up behind me. I shriek and speed up, hearing his responding chuckle closer than I'd like to. Breaking out into a sprint and a full laugh once I get to the door, turning the handle with him breathing down my neck and his hands sliding his shirt off of my shoulders.

"Ooo, a bed," I announce giddily, before arms wind themselves around the soft, sensitive parts of my body again. He draws my mouth up to his and we're quiet like that for several moments, before snuffling at my feet makes me jump. Frank and Hade have come up to see what all the commotion is about.

I laugh, but Terrell ushers them out swiftly before locking the door. "A bed, yes. Get on it."

I furrow my eyebrows and stalk towards him, seeing him open his arms to receive me but slipping through them to kneel at his feet.

"This what you do when you're in control?" He watches me consider the fabric before me.

I say nothing, sliding down pants he never bothered to zip back up after the countertop fuck and caressing the hot bulge underneath another layer of cotton.

The first taste is hot and soft, and I feel a calm euphoria set in my mind as I drag the flat of my tongue up and down the growing length. He shudders as I smooth firm hands along his thighs, wrack with goosebumps, and take the head of his penis into my mouth.

Deep grumbles from his chest mark the arrival of his hands to the back of my head, and I welcome them. They hold me sweetly at first, but the more I tease, the harder they grip.

"D'Mina."

"Mmm?"

The vibration of the sound in my mouth makes another shudder shimmer through him. "You won't get to be in control for very long if you don't stop playing."

How am I in control if he's telling me what to do? I glare up at him and consider grabbing his hands and holding them at his sides, but know that he'll completely take over if I do that. And the thought makes my pussy seize.

I let my mouth relax and slide down the rest of the shaft, and he sighs, releasing handfuls of braids I didn't know he had grabbed.

"Thank you, baby. Fuck. Mm. Fuck, your mouth is hot," I hear, over the slurping. The growl in his voice makes my whole body tremble, and the telltale gnawing need for more sets in my stomach.

I slide my hand into my underwear, the only clothing I'm still wearing, and fondle my pussy, sighing as I hear Terrell continue to grumble and shake above me. It's soon not enough and I stuff fingers inside myself to ease the emptiness, the anticipation of fullness. It helps a bit, but what I need is currently at the back of my throat.

I draw my hand back out and cup his balls, covering them. Another rumble from his chest that reaches down through the dick I'm working over. I swallow around it and he settles a hand on his hip, just working my head with the other one.

"You gonna take it, D'Mina?"

I wrap my hands, one drenched in my own juices and the other drenched in his, around his ass. He nods and starts rolling his hips into his thrusts, never taking his eyes from the scene. When he comes I vacuum-seal the head of his dick and he curls over me, both hands newly clutching my head. He seeds my mouth and the cum spills, warm and sappy over the edges of my tongue to bathe the back of my throat.

When his grip loosens, I resolve to lap away the residue from myself that I'd smeared over his pelvis, listening to his recovering breaths.

"You can take charge any time you want," he breathes above me. I finally sigh, laying my head against his thigh to stare up at him. He runs fingers over my scalp, scratching lightly, and I smile, content at his feet. "My girl."

I nod and rise up, placing a kiss on his lips before finally turning to consider the bed.

"I'm gonna fuck you in a little bit," he decides, his usually harsh voice overladen with soft tones. Words as blunt as ever, though.

I look over at him, noting the snuffling of at least one dog at the door. "So I should, what, splay myself across your bed?"

"Reading my mind." He grins fully and brilliantly. He herds me onto the bed, and I'm too off-kilter from my erratic heartbeats to grumble at him about it.

"I get to touch you now," he says with a great deal of satisfaction, wrapping a calloused hand around my thigh. I'm way too placated to protest his petting.

"Happy for you," I yawn.

I gasp a little bit as he yanks me down closer to him, and open my eyes to a quiet and considering face.

"M' gonna have to put in some serious work to keep you here, huh?"

I draw my eyebrows together. "You could just come lay down," I offer.

Terrell shakes his head in consternation, resting it against the inside of my thigh for a moment and breathing warm air across the part of my legs. It's only soothing until he begins tracing his fingertips in circles along my stomach, descending lower with each stroke. His breath starts speeding up as he notices my body starting to roll again.

"What if I fuck you so good that you just stay?" he whispers over my center. I'm feeling locked into place, even though my legs are quivering over his arms, stomach trembling before his eyes.

He lowers his face and there's a heady, drawn-out moan shooting into the air. It's from him, lapping at the folds of my skin, and I respond with my own, desperate version, feeling his hands cup my ass and spreading everything open from underneath for better display.

When I'm dripping, he shoves the hood out from around my clit with his tongue while I jerk erratically underneath him. Absolute concentration appears on his face, the only warning before his tongue starts vibrating over the taut, straining plot of skin. I don't hear anything out of my mouth, but when I come to again, eyes creaking back open, he's shrugging my quivering legs away from his messy, tousled head, and looking notably proud.

He draws a long breath and begins again, from the bottom, dipping a firm tongue tip as far as it can go and probing for the spongy fold of skin he pinpointed when he first threw me up against his front door.

"Terrell. I don't know if I can go again."

He draws his tongue back out and wipes his mouth against my leg, leaving a gleaming streak. "My pussy, my rules. Any objections?"

I'm boneless and worn before he stops, and when he rises above me I note a sort of sobriety about him, lazily perusing my limp, panting body as he holds his drooling dick above me.

"Objections?" he whispers again as he leans over me, searching my eyes for any more secrets.

I shake my head once, and twice, before he slides himself into me, eyes closing and a furrow appearing between his brows. He slaps thickly against my skin, stutters, and stops again, drawing a deep breath before lifting himself up a bit further and dragging his knees to a sturdier, wider position underneath my legs.

Everything's too warm and wet to feel sore, and I just open myself as wide as possible to the rhythm he finds soon after. The ribbing of my walls is rasping against his entry, and I feel a minute shiver throughout my body each time he thunders past it. He's grunting with each push, sweat covering his chest and arms, streaming down his face. He gasps for air after a brutal, banging series of thrusts, and I smooth my hands over what I can reach of him, crooning and babbling under the spell of swollen oversensitivity he's put me under.

He opens his eyes when I place a slightly shaking hand against his cheek, and leans his face delicately into my palm. I summon whatever else is left and clench around his jerking, leaking shaft.