Theo and Sandra

I draw breath and feel my nipples press against his chest, still damp and cold underneath the cloth from my hasty exit from the shower.

"Theo you-"

"Mm, no," he interjects, hands tightening around my wrists and beginning to draw them up above my head, sleeves catching on the rough wall behind me. "That was going to be a complaint, not an answer. I could feel it. Try again."

I take the moment to breathe, almost pant as our hands complete their trajectory. The more dramatic arch of my back causes the tips of my breasts to slide against the fabric between us, rising at the warmth I can detect pouring off of his body.

"I don't-"

"You don't?" My breath shudders in as he transfers both my hands to one of his, his free hand coming up to hold my face. I look up into his face for the first time since he stormed in and it's still Theodore, still my friend. I'm burning for my friend.

"Theo..." His fingers slide down my neck to knead the muscle of my shoulder and I fight back the need to end his name on a sigh.

We stay like that, with him petting me and my arms pinned above my head, until my chest stops rising and falling so erratically. I'm becoming lax against the wall, staring into Theo's deep brown eyes, pressed secure underneath his wide frame. I can't speak. I feel like he should be able to see the desperation I have for him to do something to me, see it in my eyes, feel it shifting in the air.

His gaze never drops from my eyes as he cranes his neck to place his lips against mine. His grip renews on my wrists and his right hand sweeps around gently to cup my breast through the thin cotton of my shirt.

I feel him hefting the weight of it in his palm before rubbing questing fingers over the hardened tip at the peak, making me suck in my breath and press further into his hand.

His lips brush over mine again, and unable to keep my mouth closed, I feel my tongue slip through and swipe at his lips. He murmurs his approval and fastens his mouth back to mine, fingers abandoning my chest and migrating, riding over my back until he gets to my ass.

He grips the swell of it, long fingers curving over the whole expanse and teasing at the naked, wet lips laying unprotected at the center of my thighs. I part my legs slightly, and as a reward I feel a finger sliding through my folds. "You like this, Sandra? You found your answer yet?"

I seek out his lips again, hoping to shut him up. "Be quiet and go deeper," I demand.

The fingers leave my body, and I jerk at empty air for a split second, fists still trapped high above me with clenching and unclenching fingers.

I open my eyes to anger, in his eyes and the set of his mouth. I stop fidgeting against the wall immediately and watch him, fascinated by the brighter burning of the fire in my stomach. It's jumping and crackling at the coldness in his face.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I-"

Theo moves, like a slow, powerful creature, grabbing my shoulders and turning my body to face the wall. He places my hands against the brick, my fingernails scraping against my chin.

"Theo?"

Hands flip the shirt up and forcefully palm my ass, a few fingers prying the cheeks apart. I feel the air chill against the wet lips he's probably staring at now.

"I don't wanna hear a fucking sound from you," he says at my ear. I hear a zipper, and then I bite back my howl as he pushes what's got to be the head of his dick into me, hands maneuvering my hips down onto him.

Of course, I'm not all the way quiet. I groan, the sound coming from my chest as he shallowly pumps his hips a few times, producing muffled grunts from me. It only makes him grip my waist tighter, and I feel his thighs rest against the backs of mine for a split second, huffing.

A hand pushes down hard on my back, forcing me to widen my stance and bend over significantly more. Theo moves with me, grunting.

I pant against the wall and brace my legs as he continues where he left off, straight up fucking me. The thrusts bang my face against the wall until I get the strength in my arms to press away from it. Theo's making animalistic sounds behind me, and all I can feel is the overwhelming pressure of him plowing through me, hands slipping over my wet hips until he finds purchase at the folds of my back, fingers digging sharply into the skin there.

He drags himself out of me at an angle and I hear myself whimper, fighting to keep my legs underneath me. I want to plead out to him again, but I don't want to disobey him, suddenly deathly afraid of the notion that he won't let me finish.

So my body gradually crumples underneath his, and he's still fucking me, my legs splayed out and arms scrabbling to catch both of our bodies.

Once we're down, sweat beginning to drip from us to the wooden floor, he abruptly pulls out, rising to a kneeling position above my sagging body.

"So this is you not wanting me?" he asks leisurely, petting my back and hind with long, sure strokes. The head of his dick is resting against my ass, jerking every now and then. "You can speak," he adds.

Annoyance burns, for a moment, hotter than my need, and I make to sit up and protest.

Theo leans forward, clucking, and cuffs his hand at the back of my neck, pinning me down. He plunges his fingers back into my dripping pussy, idly pumping them while adjusting his weight over me.

"No, Sandra. I want you to tell me."

I whine and get my knees under me, thrusting back against his fingers, and he doesn't stop me. I ride a small wave there, and he caresses the flexing walls inside me. I feel something more promising building.

"Theo," I announce, fighting back a more desperate plea at the edge of my lips. "Just fuck me, that's all you have to do."

"Wrong answer." Theo stands, dragging me up by my neck, fingers catching on the almost-forgotten scabs from our forest scuffle, until I'm kneeling before him. His dick bobs against my lips once before he guides it into my mouth, eyebrows swirling low over a determined stare.

I run my tongue under the rim of the plump head, almost pacified as I begin a rhythmic bob, both hands wrapped around his sturdy thighs.

I have a mind to creep my right hand down to my own center as I get him off, taking him down halfway and curling my left hand around the bottom of the shaft that I can't fit, but he seems to read my mind.

"Hold your hands behind you."

I look up at him, disappointed but obliging. Once I've done so, my chest pressing out into the air between his legs, he grabs one of my swinging breasts, testily rolling a nipple between his fingers.

I gasp but don't stop moving, hearing him grunt as I draw my cheeks in and pull on just the head of his dick.

He pulls on the nipple, letting my breast drop back against my chest and seizing the other one. Each tug sends my dripping, empty pussy into spasms, and I squirm against it.

My eyes are beginning to water when he grabs my head with strong hands. He fucks my face then, and all I can do is try to keep my core stable while he slams into the back of my throat, causing it to tighten around him.

He groans long and low and speeds up to a blazing pace, and with my body unbalanced, I'm trembling to stay upright. My arms start to unclasp, trying to catch me, but I'm suddenly bent backwards. Theo clamps a hand down on my shoulder, almost bruisingly, and forces his dick down my messy throat one last time. I moan in whore-ish glee as his cum burbles into my stomach. The vice grip of the other hand on my head turns into a cradle as I swallow around the pole.

"Alright," he sighs in relief. He readjusts his shirt and begins zipping his pants up over his wilting dick.

"Theo. No. The fuck. You're not leaving. I need to cum." I kneel in disbelief before him, my hips still rocking against empty air. My shirt sits on my hips, and I watch him watch my slight, desperate gyrations.

"Why would you want to cum? I wanted you, so I came. You never said you wanted me..." he shrugs, menacingly. "So you didn't."

"...I do want you! Theo, just fuck me, anywhere. However you want. I want you so bad, I can't take it," I ramble, leaning back against the wooden floor in shameless desperation.

He watches me from above, dark emotion swirling behind his eyes. I run my hands up and down my sweat-slick body, jamming two fingers into my woeful pussy. The vulgar sound of me cramming my hand into the spongy folds fills the room, and lust rips through Theo's eyes.

I employ my hand to roll a nipple painfully between the thumb and forefinger, wincing as I angle my palm to rub against my clit as I pump my hand faster into myself. I whine up at the rigid man above me, eyes trained on the peek of skin at his waistline.

"Theo, baby. Baby, please, just come here. This is not enough, I want you."

He watches me. Watches me plant my feet as I come to a quiet, stiff climax, whimpering in meager satisfaction. I slide my fingers from my hole to play with my clit, letting my open thighs jump and tremble.

"I'll see you later, Sandra," Theo says, eyes flashing across my body before fastening to my face. He turns away and leaves the room, and I hear the quiet click of the front door after a few moments pass. Dinner is ready a half hour later.

...

I keep replaying the positions he had me in in my head. As I finish adding a custom-made dagger sheath to the latest ball gown commission to be picked up by the end of the week, I think about being on all fours under Theo's heaving, heavy body. Taking him completely, wailing my pleasure with my whole chest.

I need him.

It's weird to think about Theo, to relive the moment that sex with him entered into my mind as not an option, but an avid desire. Of course, he's attractive. A good neighbor, a good friend. Of course I'd been fantasizing about taking it further, for months now.

But a month ago, and again, much more recently, I learned that he's impulsive. So very, fucking impulsive, and now the image of his braids swinging against his shoulders as he fucked my mouth is seared into my brain. The anger runs deep in my blood, and haze appears in front of my eyes before I dispel the literal mist of outrage crowding around me. It's not good for the leather.

I don't need much. He just needs to come back and fuck me right, and I can stop feeling like this.

A knock comes at my door that Friday, and assuming it's the client whose commission I just finished, I swing it open.

"Hi," cheerily out of my mouth before I note a friendly face and brawny body. "Fuck," I blurt.

Theo smiles at me in his usual Theo way, but this time it alters my body, making my limbs heavy and my stomach tight. Why didn't he just burst into my home as usual?

"Can I come in, Sandra?"

I don't know. I want to yank his dick out of his pants and take what I want from him while he's standing in the doorway.

"Yeah. ...Behave yourself," I reprimand, only half-joking. I'm hanging onto decorum by a thread. "You wanna see the dress I was working on for the last two months? Finished it yesterday."

He follows me to my sewing room and the space is much smaller, not due to its size but just to the sheer amount of stuff I have crammed into for the latest project. Bolts of fabric lining the walls, two scrap bins taking up the space by my machine. Theo slides in beside me quietly, looking over the dress that isn't yet in its garment bag, sitting out for customer inspection.

"This is the one with all the knives?"

I smile. "Just one knife, here." I flip up a portion of the skirt and show him the blade and sheath. "I liked making this one. Although at this point, renfair people and theater people are a good portion of my income anyway. Who'd've thought?"

"Sandra."

"What." I look up at him, dry-toned, but my smile breaks out again in response to his grin.

"I wanna talk about what we did." He leans against the only wall clear of debris.

"What, you wanted to apologize for blueballing me?"

"I watched you cum."

I clear my throat, determined not to let the gentle, teasing expression on his face soften my own. "Then we have nothing to talk about."

I slide past him, and he casually reaches an arm out to catch my waist. He pulls me to him, nuzzling at my neck. I feel my heart skip in excitement and plant my hands at his upper arms, meaning to push away but instead holding him there as he starts to nibble.

"When I ask you if you want me today," he murmurs. "You're going to say yes. And I'll fuck you good," he assures me. "I'll make you cum. Again, and again..."

I hiccup little puffs of air as he lashes his tongue against my pulse.

"Mmhmm," I breathe, reaching for his waistband.

He stops me, pulling away. "And Sandra, the next time I fuck you, I want you to say you need me."

His hands slide into mine, and I wrap my fingers automatically around his.

"Okay? Yeah."

He smiles again. "Now, let me make you lunch."

My eye twitches as he tugs me along behind him, and his silly little chuckle almost hurts to hear.

"I know you didn't eat yet today."

"No you don't."

"You just finished a dress, you probably didn't sleep either."

I yank my hand out of his, feeling not a small amount of irritation. I want his pants off.

I resign myself, grabbing a loaf of bread off of the counter and tossing it to him, not waiting to see if he catches it while I rifle through the fridge for mayo and meat. I won't be a child about this. I'm not so crazy with need that I'll sulk about putting other things first.

I do find myself sulking, though, as I turn around and find him washing his hands at the sink and pulling out the cutting board, the loaf of bread sitting right back on the counter.

"What?" he asks innocently, daring me to complain about whatever slow-roast meal he's about to make.

I breathe in and out in an effort to settle down for the long haul. "What do you need from the fridge?"

...

It's leek and potato soup, and I do feel good after I eat. I grab his empty bowl before he can get up and plant a kiss on his head in passing, wondering at the gesture milliseconds too late.

"I like this," he comments, reaching around me for a dish cloth to wipe down the table and counter.

I shrug. "Good."

He watches me, leaning up against the counter. "You don't act like a chronic runaway. Especially considering all your mom's antics, the stuff you got flak for."

I put our dishes in the drying rack and dry my hands on the towel he hands me. "That was just a part of it. She does love me. My family is generally happy. But when things are bad, they're capable of getting really, really bad. So I stay away, mostly for some sense of stability."

I pump some of the lotion I keep by the sink into my hand and only think a little bit about a scene that could play out like this later in the day, viscous liquid running across my palm.

"You find out anything about yourself lately? You haven't spoken about it in a minute."

Theo blinks and I swear I can see dust motes swirling away from his lashes in the sunbeams coming through the window. "Some stuff. Apparently my mom's side has a bit of satyr, and uh...."

I turn, interested. "Uh?"

He smiles nervously. "My grandmother was a dark witch."

It's my turn to blink vapidly, and I stare at the gentle giant in front of me, running possibilities through my head. "Did... do you know her name?"

He sighs and seems to deflate. "Ytho."

"Mina Ytho."

"Yeah."

I open my mouth thinking the right words are just going to fall out. "So... when I told you nothing too big was going to come out of me sifting through your essence..."

"You helped me find out my grandmother was a warlord, yes."

"And you weren't gonna tell me??? I'm so sorry. Oh God. Did you tell your family about it? Who'd you talk to to find out?"

"Most of the family knew. They warned my father off from having kids so he could end the line, but..." he grimaces. "Now I know why I'm an only child."

He looks helpless and hunched against the counter in my kitchen, and I sidle up next to him. "I'm sorry you found out like that."

"That I'm a hazard to society?"

"That there are people in your family who made terrible choices and are making you pay for it. Through your life and blood. But you're not a hazard."

He gazes at me through heavy lashes. "That day I fucked you and left."

"Well that's certainly a way to switch up the subject."

He shakes his head. "No, listen. When I did that... That anger? It felt so good when I was controlling you there, when I had you almost afraid of me. I never had that feeling before. And then when I finished, my blood cooled, and... it felt like when you tested the lines in me, except... it was like holding power in my hands."

Am I supposed to be turned on? I'm trying to sympathize with the man who up until a few weeks ago has been a tried and true friend. "Here. Gimme your hand."

"You sure? Now that you know what I am." He looks like a sad puppy, if sad puppies had stocky, stout bodies and a thick bushel of hair lashed behind their heads.

I suck my teeth and hold my hand out, looking him in the eye when he places his in mine. "Shouldn't we sit?" he asks, but I only shake my head.

I slide in with him like before, greeting the many threads that make up Theodore Turner and feeling them rush to welcome me back. I faintly feel Theo squeeze my hand, and I squeeze back as I thread more of myself towards the warm beast.

It doesn't know what to do, and soon the energy I'm feeding it begins to overwhelm it. I feel my legs go a little weak at the amount of myself that I'm throwing out, and I grip Theo's hand a little harder. He pulls me closer to him, cradling my body against his, and I can feel the lines humming with satisfaction. The being in him is blurry with excitement, bathing itself in the vibrating strands crammed around its form. So much of me is packed into Theo at this point that I can hear his heartbeat nestled at the base of my neck, thrumming with a rise in tempo as I watch. It starts becoming unstable, fidgeting with the excess, and that's when I let it all rebound into me.

I don't know what I was expecting, but I feel myself lift up, mine and Theo's hands somehow never parting as my body goes rigid with both creatures bounding between the interconnected lines.

I feel my body rock back against a wall and open my eyes, finding myself propped up against the door frame of my bedroom with my head crammed against the light fixture, looking at the top of Theo's head with his face smothered into my breasts. I don't know how we got here.

I evaluate the situation with a dazed humour. "This wasn't the point I was trying to make."

He lifts himself effortfully off of the wall and my chest, letting my feet touch the ground. "I need to be closer to you."

Behind my eyes, I can see our beasts still twining together, constellations made of the threads of our beings romping around in the fog of our nerves.

"We're really close right now," I point out, light-headed as a wave of whatever's happening to us hits me hard. Theo drops to his knees on the ground and hugs my leg with his free hand, shaking.

"I need to be inside you. Woven into you. Apart of you. I can't stand up anymore," he says apologetically. Pitch black eyes, irises stark against the whites, gazing helplessly up at me in the dim, windowless shadows of the hallway.

A knock at the door.

I directly address Theo's being and tell him I'll be back soon. He's very polite, of course, and all at once I can recognize my own separate entity from his, more and more pieces of me retracting from him and my own self untwining from his fibrous threads.

I kiss him on the forehead for the second time today while he stares dully up at me, and leave him slumped in the hall.

I usher my customer in and straight to the sewing room, shamelessly compelling her to think she's in a rush for something important so she'll leave as quickly as possible. I give her my card so she can call back later and give real feedback, though.