. sustancias

[benicio otero]

Benicio

Shifting impossibly close to him, against him, demanding and insistent without needing words. Guided by the staccato rhythm of her breath, the slick grip of her around his fingers, the urgent roll of her hips into his. Rosie unable to hide from him, his features mirroring hers to encourage her along until she shuddered as quietly as she could and he felt the tremors of her release. There it is. Stilling his ministrations so she could come down, smiling his victory against her lips and swallowing her breaths, his body reverberating beneath the reaches of her pleasure. He’s slow to extricate his hand, relishing the chill of the air along his damp fingertips, tasting her again and wiping the rest on her naked thigh as she shifted away. He has to adjust himself in his pants as they exit the car in front of her Chelsea address, easy Spanish flowing from his lips to José before the door closed shut and he followed suit through the lobby. In the elevator he nudged her into the mirrored corner, hands traveling along her sides and into her hair as he palmed her face to consume her lips, framed by an infinity of their reflections. Stumbling out of the elevator and to the door he still remembered, Benicio loomed behind her, pressing himself close, unhelpful in her effort to unlock the door that was quickly slammed shut behind them with her against it as he tugged at the back of her dress.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Idly, she wonders what the doormen would make of them right now. They'd likely clock the familiarity of Benicio, then trail their eyes to her disheveled look, the swift urgency in which they moved through her lobby to the elevator bank. Judgment presses heavy against her chest for a moment, only easing when she remembers that they've likely seen worse, then washing away completely through his relentless touch. Braced against the corner of her elevator, allowing the cameras a show that she'd seconds ago been loathe to acknowledge. That's how quickly things could change, that's how desperate she felt. Noticed in the shake of her hands at her own door, sending an elbow his way to be able to turn the key before they're shoving through and her body's pressed against its cool surface. Her hands curve and carve his shoulders, lips bruising in their crush as she tips on the slope of her toes, balanced on the edge of want and need and another delicious edge. With practiced precision Rosie arches against the door, using the space to unzip her dress from behind and letting it slip to the ground. Hands still greedy in their pursuit, dragging his shirt up to trail against tense skin. "In my mouth or inside me?" She gasps as she comes up for air, touch ghosting over the length of him still trapped in the confines of his pants. Nudging closer to his ear, coaxing the rasp of her voice."Whatever you want."

[benicio otero]

Benicio

Everything is familiar again: her lobby, the doormen on duty, the number of seconds it takes for the elevator to ping to her floor. Former dates out and nights in resurfacing in his memory, trying only to parse from them the knowledge of her pleasure, remember how she sounded and moved on him. How different this side of her was when they were both stripped down and sharing the same objective. It should feel like a miracle they make it through her door intact, hands urgent and mouths connected, clawing for the upper hand. Still a match between them, who can make the other fall apart first now that they’re alone, uninhibited. Watching the dress pool at her waist, tugging it down the rest of the way over her hips, still infatuated with her figure after all this time. His attention turned toward her chest, mouthing along where skin met lace, her bra a suggestion for his path. Reaching deftly behind her to make quick of the work of the clasp, fabric falling away as his button-down dropped away too. Her invitation makes him want to buckle, groaning into a heavy kiss. “Inside,” he breathed, determined, his turn to be desperate. Feeling the chill of the air bite at his exposed skin, tattoos unveiled as he reached for the nape of his shirt to pull it over his head. “I’ve missed how you feel,” he rasped, backing her up into the kitchen until she nudged into a counter. “But not yet,” he smiled, hoisting her up onto the countertop, fingertips hooking into the loops of her panties and dragging them down her legs and nudging her thighs apart to taste her once more.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

The late hour spirals between them, high rise lights the only inclination of their frenzy through her apartment, familiarity driving their senses as kisses drowned and drowned and drowned. She knew he remembered it, knew memories would flood - softer times, sweeter times - but Rosie coaxed smoke across the fires, heady rushes taking shape across the expanse of his skin as her touched traced exposed ink, tongue slipping back into his mouth as she hit the edge of her island with a groan. Letting his words flow over and through her, not wanting to acknowledge the past because they had this now, and it would need to be enough. Instead she leans into the chill of the marble against her naked body, legs drifting further open in invitation, laying back with no motive but to just let herself enjoy. Let go and be brought senseless, relinquishing the power she often craved as his name fell softly from her lips in desperation, breaking into a moan at the hint of his mouth between her thighs.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

Benicio isn’t sure what is more powerful: the need to make her fall apart or the drive toward mutual pleasure. Perhaps of equal pull, especially with Rosie’s naked body on display for him on the counter, an idol to be worshipped by his mouth and hands. Her heaving chest and gleaming skin, the smeared color of her lips, the spread of her legs and barely-there weight of her calves on his shoulders before he breathed hot against her, kisses tucked into her inner thigh. Painstakingly close to where she expected him, where she wanted him. Dragging the flat of his tongue against her, palms spreading from her pelvis to her breasts to claim as much of her as possible. Like he had been aching for her for months, a starving man finally allowed to feast. Familiar in the pace and pattern of how to beckon her toward the edge, lapping her up, sounds that would be obscene to eavesdroppers, pressing into motions that would punch out the air from her lungs or wrap his curls in her fists. “What do you think,” he said harshly against her, catching his breath, dragging his teeth across her inner thigh before his same fingers slipped their return into her, thumb rolling against her clit. “Can you cum for me again?”

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Rosie falls deeper into his calculated ministrations, mind dark and heavy with the buzz of pleasure that zipped through her veins like a current. A leg twitching here to the lave of his tongue against her clit, a clipped breath there as his hands carried weight against her skin. Giving in to the worship of her body, the delicate praise and the coarse scratch of his beard against her sensitive thighs. "Not yet," Rosie gasps at his question, the quick slide of his fingers back inside as she lolled her head. Feeling the pleasure pull tighter inside her body but unable to reach for it yet, tracing her own curves, cupping her own breasts on a sigh as his touch dragged her ever closer. "Another. Add another."

[benicio otero]

Benicio

This is the only way Rosie lets go. When she gives in. A tug-of-war for power but in which they both ultimately win when they finally laid down their arms. Like now, watching her begin to crumble in front of him, almost punishing her with the promise of pleasure. Looking up at her from between her thighs, her breasts gathered in her hands, her brow crooking as she feverishly chased the waves. Drawing in and out of her, digits curling and coaxing, tongue fluttering against her clit; a careful orchestration safe from his usual impatience. Rosie's plea surprises him at first before he then catches her demand, almost arrested in his effort to push her over the edge. Briefly lifting away from her, Beni flashed an incredulous smile that disappeared once his lip dragged beneath his teeth. “So greedy,” he chided darkly but quick to oblige nonetheless, pulling out his fingers to coat her and slot his mouth against her before lining up again. Groaning a curse watching his fingers disappear down to the knuckle, hot, slick walls yielding to the stretch so he could continue his command on her body.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Pain and pleasure claw equally between her hips, managing to prop herself up on her elbows to meet his voyeuristic gaze. It's filthy, what she sees, what she feels; the eternal darkness of his eyes, the sting of the stretch to welcome him further. She knows it'll be enough to give him what he needs and what she wants, pressure building at the relentless pace, the swirl of his mouth, everything laid out before her eyes before it builds and builds and builds. Then snaps. Swift, and vicious, Rosie tosses her head back to succumb to every wicked pulse through her body, grip holding him to her in a desperate desire for him to continue until she all but trembled on his tongue. "Holy fuck," she swears when words find her, running her hands through her hair, over her face. Trying to find her breath, trying to remember what just happened, pulling herself back up to meet a heady stare, taste the mess of herself on his mouth. "Bedroom, now," she demands, arms lacing around his neck, suddenly insatiable for more.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

Another demand, more greed. This time Beni can hardly react, still entranced by the searing aftershocks of her climax, his head trapped between her thighs and at her mercy. In awe of her display, realizing the building ache of his own need—and the thrill of sharing it with her like they used to. “Fuck you are so beautiful,” he rasped, swiping his mouth against her shivering thigh, his beard wet and breath returning. Beni withdrew his hand before sensitivity could shift into overwhelm, meeting Rosie’s kiss with haste and understanding what they both needed. Now. Desperate to take her over the edge with him, make her count the orgasms if that meant extending their little time together by wringing her of pleasure. Tattooed arms wind tight around her to hoist her slight weight off the countertop, suddenly aware of (and disappointed by) his state of overdress. A memory of her apartment layout still persisted, maneuvering them across the threshold of her bedroom, consumed by kisses that said more than any language could. Swearing that he can feel her hands everywhere, unzipping his pants and pushing both layers down until he could step free of them. Turning so that once his knees met the bed, she was on top and the control could shift back to her. “I want you to ride me,” he said, a demand of his own. “I love watching you take me.”

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

Rosie can already sense the aftermath of tomorrow, the skin of her thighs stinging as she was swept off the counter. The swell of her lips, the ache inside that will do nothing but make her remember what was happening now. Tumbling back to the present as heat passed between their open mouths, hands curling at the nape of his neck. Watching with tameless eyes as the final layers between them are tossed away, nudging him further up the bed at the harsh of his request. It was her turn now to take back what she craved, sweeping her hair to one side as she straddled his thighs. Choosing to dip her head lower first, tongue tracing his sensitive tip, knowing how long he'd been hard and aching and choosing to drive him wild for it anyway. Her eyes flick up as she takes him fully down her throat in one swift motion, bobbing back up to drag her tongue down the length of him before repeating the motion. Teasing, taking what she wanted now, savoring the heady taste as she pulled away only to grab a condom from her drawer, sliding it on in one swift motion. "K," Rosie finally deigns to honor his order, astride him once more, the smug edge of a smile on her face as she braced her hands on the planes of his chest and slowly guided him into her.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

Rosie is a sight to behold, a queen taking to her throne. Feeling the familiar plush of her bed against his back and the delicious press of her weight into him. Achingly hard since the car ride over, the length of him trapped beneath her, agonizingly closer to where they both craved. But first she must remind of her power, Benicio possessed by carnal desperation when she slides lower and he feels her grasp on him before he watches her mouth stake claim. His features lifting in ecstasy, one arm tucked behind his head for better view, the other free hand pushing her hair to the side to watch unhindered and unabashed. A hitched breath rasping out as a groan, feeling the warm ridges of her throat, the slide of her tongue, before the layer of latex glides over him and so does she. While his eyes roam her body his hands are quick behind their paths, her grasp lining him up, his palms digging into the crease between her thigh and hip. When she sank down onto him, his mouth fell open watching between them where she stretched and he disappeared, the sensations shattering his nerves upon alignment with the view. “Fuck you feel so good,” he whispers, almost in a grit to restrain himself from starting too soon, enjoying her accommodating him, body catching fire. He ran his hands up her curves, traced the dips and curves of her stomach, grinning into a kiss broken by his moan as their pelvises met flush, slick and yielding to his length. He rolls his hips up into her like he's determined to carve his place between them, a man possessed.

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

She's in familiar territory, spurred on by the comfort of her own space as her body gave and gave and gave. Lips dousing sweat-tinged skin like kerosene, hands testing their grip as her hips finally gave way. The touches he ghosts over her body feel like sweet relief, breath heavy from her lips as she waits for the comfort to settle. Wincing slightly when he shifts, biting his bottom lip in warning before the sensation finally melts into familiarity and she draws herself up higher on her knees, arching forward as she takes him in once again. Testing her own pace, her own restraint, taking what she wanted on the edge of broken moans and the hot sounds of their bodies coming together. Eyes drenched in desire as they opened to meet him, knowing that she had the power here, had him in her grasp, her own moans sent into his open mouth as she increased her pace. Knowing that there would be a thin line between her legs starting to ache and the pitch of another release, tugging him closer as she cried out. "Beni, touch me."

[benicio otero]

Benicio

Like a student of her body Benicio quickly matches her pace, anticipating her movement to amplify the drag of his length inside her. Scorched and slick and tight around him, caught up in a torrent of heat and bliss remembering this between them. Working together in hot pursuit of an end, the heated coil low in the pit of stomach beginning to wind up tight as she bore down on him and he became a fanatic of her body. Drowning in each others’ lips and tongues, punctuated by the clap of flesh and depraved sounds and frantic tones, cloyed by their combined scent and sweat and the familiar perfume of her sheets. Feeling the beginnings of flutters, his eyes nearly rolling back between that and the sound of his name on her lips, her new need. Another sensation, more more more. A low, guttural groan that reverberates across his chest from the inside out. And he knows she loves to hear him, too; to flex her command over him, to make him just as broken and debauched as she is. Hands sent again to her hips to steady her, shifting to hold her there and push up into her instead, taking her mind off the movement to only focus on riding another wave. He swiped his tongue over his thumb and found the frayed bundle of nerves once more, still staving off his own release, needing to extract more from her. “Give me another,” he groaned, drawing circles on her, hips rolling and tensing, hands braced on his chest. “Cum for me again, let me feel you.”

[rosie de la cruz]

Rosie

She wants, he gives; dragging him closer to the edge with her own commands, satisfaction dripping down her throat as she tilted her hips, drove deeper at a new angle. Burning with a passionate intensity that Beni easily matched, feeling the rumble of his groan through his chest. Gasping as he stilled her, made his strokes deep and intentional and overwhelming as he took back over, Rosie throwing her head back as she allowed the power to pass. To take what was given, to enjoy the spoils of her own request, dizziness pulling taut in her core as she squeezed at every thrust. Eyes fluttering shut as images flit through her vision, hazy and brutal and carnal, voice pitched sweet as she drew closer yet again. Almost afraid of the sensation but refusing to tell him to stop, living in a moment of her own creation as her swollen lips drew back open. "I..I'm..." his thumb shifts slightly and she can barely breath at the intensity as she cums again, trembling around him in fluttering waves. Letting him use her to chase his own high, breathy sighs moaned in his ear like a mantra as she clung to him.

[benicio otero]

Benicio

It’s a dizzying realization that he is her pleasure. A tool for her body, a means to an end. In a different mind he might wonder about her love life lately or who else Rosie called to get her through lonely nights, but Benicio is entirely too consumed by the moment, a slave to the pitches and rolls of their bodies. Gaze darting between her and to the apex of her thighs where they’re connected, watching himself disappear and the insistent torture of his thumb against her. So slick that he should slip out yet so gripped that she draws him back in, brushing against something deep and devastating within her, like it won’t be enough until they are merged into one. Urged along by the string of moans and whimpers indicating he’s exactly where he needs to be. Clutching to him like she might slip away…or never recover once she lands from the height of pleasure. The pronounced, steady rhythm he once had is loosening in his desperation to reach his own end, knowing Rosie is right there too. Feeling her give in and capsize against the crashing waves, pulling him along with her, mouth going slack and dark eyes begging hers, only capable of sounds and the echo of her name. Seized by pulses of electricity across his skin and fire deep through his belly, shuddering with a groan as he reached his peak, burying himself deep in her, yielding to the molten euphoria. Slowing to a stop, exacerbating their nerves, pulling her flush against him with a kiss, body drained of strength. “Diablo. What you do to me,” he murmured with a soft chuckle, stroking her hair.