“It’s almost fifteen minutes until the meeting starts, and Arthur-san isn’t here yet.”
“…And this is of concern, because?”
“Well, usually Eyebrows would be sitting at his chair and waiting for the meeting to officially start by now…”
“Hm, now that I think about it, I didn’t see Emily-san at practice today.”
“…”
“Francis-san?…Why are you smiling like that?”
Scoff. “I’m pretty sure we don’t want to know, anyway.”
“…Oh, it’s nothing Kiku, Michelle. Nothing at all.”
Francis shifts his gaze to the closed door and his blue eyes narrow. Rosbif, you dog, you. Hon-hon-hon.
--
Emily F. Jones likes to think she knows everything about Arthur—but whenever she has this confidence, the British always manages to surprise her in some way.
“Oh! Oh, my God!”
Like now, for instance—when she’s lying on a bare teacher’s desk, her shirt open and her breasts bouncing freely, clinging to the sides of it with a tight grip, having her hips grasped tightly as another (slightly bony) pair grinds against them, their owner filling her over and over with thrusts that are slow, almost tender. Said owner lets out a dark chuckle and leans over to breathe against her ear.
“Careful, love,” Arthur whispers. “We don’t want to get caught, now do we?”
Emily bites her lower lip and keens as she leans her head back, giving a wordless permission for Arthur to press his hot, wet lips against her neck, which, of course, he does.
“Or perhaps you want to get to get caught.”
With a light gasp, her blue eyes snap open.
Arthur nips at the base of her neck, and then chuckles. “Such a naughty little slag, you are. Bet you wouldn’t mind anyone seeing you act in such a shameless state, would you?”
…Damn. Emily wraps her arms around his back, sliding her hands under his open shirt to dig her nails into his skin. Arthur makes no sound of approval at the gesture, but the fact that his he starts thrusting just a little faster, harder, and Oh, fuck! Instinctively, she arches her back and begins to pant raggedly.
“Right there, love?”
“Mm, yeah,” she moans against his neck, just as he continues to brush against that sweet spot inside her. “Oh, fucking God, yes…”
Arthur snorts against the crook of her neck, where it met the shoulder.
“As much as I love the Lord and all,” he growls, almost sarcastically, “I really don’t appreciate Him being on your mind when I’m fucking you.”
Emily giggles and loops an arm around his neck, leaning forward to lick and suckle on his earlobe.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she coos. “But you should know you’re the only thing on my mind right now.”
The British boy grunts and buries his face further, but then grinds his hips against hers, a sign that he really isn’t upset.
Emily’s smile widens as her fingers curl around the back of his neck and she starts to kiss and suckle that tender spot underneath his ear, the spot that she knows always makes Arthur shiver.
“Nnh!” She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s gritted his teeth, just to restrain his groans. The blush rising from his neck, as well as how he twitched inside her, was enough proof of Arthur’s straining control.
Emily giggles; her Artie really is adorable sometimes.
Passions Spent (Sequel) 1a/1
“Eh? What is?”
“It’s almost fifteen minutes until the meeting starts, and Arthur-san isn’t here yet.”
“…And this is of concern, because?”
“Well, usually Eyebrows would be sitting at his chair and waiting for the meeting to officially start by now…”
“Hm, now that I think about it, I didn’t see Emily-san at practice today.”
“…”
“Francis-san?…Why are you smiling like that?”
Scoff. “I’m pretty sure we don’t want to know, anyway.”
“…Oh, it’s nothing Kiku, Michelle. Nothing at all.”
Francis shifts his gaze to the closed door and his blue eyes narrow. Rosbif, you dog, you. Hon-hon-hon.
--
Emily F. Jones likes to think she knows everything about Arthur—but whenever she has this confidence, the British always manages to surprise her in some way.
“Oh! Oh, my God!”
Like now, for instance—when she’s lying on a bare teacher’s desk, her shirt open and her breasts bouncing freely, clinging to the sides of it with a tight grip, having her hips grasped tightly as another (slightly bony) pair grinds against them, their owner filling her over and over with thrusts that are slow, almost tender. Said owner lets out a dark chuckle and leans over to breathe against her ear.
“Careful, love,” Arthur whispers. “We don’t want to get caught, now do we?”
Emily bites her lower lip and keens as she leans her head back, giving a wordless permission for Arthur to press his hot, wet lips against her neck, which, of course, he does.
“Or perhaps you want to get to get caught.”
With a light gasp, her blue eyes snap open.
Arthur nips at the base of her neck, and then chuckles. “Such a naughty little slag, you are. Bet you wouldn’t mind anyone seeing you act in such a shameless state, would you?”
…Damn. Emily wraps her arms around his back, sliding her hands under his open shirt to dig her nails into his skin. Arthur makes no sound of approval at the gesture, but the fact that his he starts thrusting just a little faster, harder, and Oh, fuck! Instinctively, she arches her back and begins to pant raggedly.
“Right there, love?”
“Mm, yeah,” she moans against his neck, just as he continues to brush against that sweet spot inside her. “Oh, fucking God, yes…”
Arthur snorts against the crook of her neck, where it met the shoulder.
“As much as I love the Lord and all,” he growls, almost sarcastically, “I really don’t appreciate Him being on your mind when I’m fucking you.”
Emily giggles and loops an arm around his neck, leaning forward to lick and suckle on his earlobe.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she coos. “But you should know you’re the only thing on my mind right now.”
The British boy grunts and buries his face further, but then grinds his hips against hers, a sign that he really isn’t upset.
Emily’s smile widens as her fingers curl around the back of his neck and she starts to kiss and suckle that tender spot underneath his ear, the spot that she knows always makes Arthur shiver.
“Nnh!” She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s gritted his teeth, just to restrain his groans. The blush rising from his neck, as well as how he twitched inside her, was enough proof of Arthur’s straining control.
Emily giggles; her Artie really is adorable sometimes.