lysapadin: pen & ink painting of bamboo against a full moon (Default)
[personal profile] lysapadin
Title: Incitement to Riot
Characters/Pairings: Imayoshi and Momoi
Summary: Imayoshi gets these ideas in his head sometimes, and he isn't afraid to share them.
Notes: Adult for smut. Written for Porn Battle XV. 1720 words.


Incitement to Riot

After Harasawa-kantoku calls an end to their weekly strategy session and takes his leave of them, Satsuki stands up and stretches her back out. "I don't know why the school can't spring for better chairs," she complains to Imayoshi-san. "It's surely not as though they couldn't make room for it in the budget."

Of course, Imayoshi-san is leaning back in his chair, balancing on two legs and looking entirely comfortable. He chuckles. "Don't you know that mortifying the flesh is good for the soul?"

Satsuki sniffs. "I don't see why it should be."

Imayoshi-san chuckles again and brings the front half of his chair down with a thump. "I expect it's supposed to foster discipline," he remarks as he stands. "Or that could just be an excuse to save money."

"I know which one I think it is," Satsuki tells him as he moves around the desks to retrieve his bag. "I think it's an excuse to be cheap." She leans across the pushed-together desks to retrieve the copies of the numbers she ran for the team's training schedules—if she can find people in other schools to funnel information about their opponents to her, then other teams can surely do the same to Touou. It doesn't do to leave anything around that might make that easier.

Behind her, Imayoshi-san hums, wordless, an appreciative sort of sound.

Satsuki glances over her shoulder at him. "Are you being a pervert, Imayoshi-san?"

He grins at her, slow and wicked. "Can you blame me when I've got a view like this?" He prowls over, standing behind her, and plants his hands on the desks, caging her against them with his body. "When you lean over like that, it gives me all sorts of naughty ideas."

"You're not even ashamed to admit it," Satsuki says, though as scoldings go, it's not one of her better efforts. It's difficult to work up the right kind of censure when she can feel his bulk at her back, warm where he's leaning over her.

"Now why should I be?" Imayoshi-san leans in closer, close enough that his voice is velvet-soft in her ear. "It's a perfectly natural response, don't you think?" He lifts a hand and sets it on her waist; Satsuki shivers just a bit. "A healthy young man with an appreciation for the feminine form would naturally have a response to the way you look when you bend over. If he didn't, I'd really have to question his taste in feminine beauty." He's rubbing his thumb up and down, slow, and on every stroke up, Satsuki can feel her blouse coming a little more untucked.

"Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere," she tells him. "Natural response or not, this is hardly the time or the place."

It would probably help her argument more if her voice weren't turning husky on her, she reflects.

"Ah, but don't you see, that's the beauty of it," Imayoshi-san murmurs as the hem of her blouse comes free of her skirt. He exploits that immediately; his fingers feel warm against her skin when he slips his hand under her blouse. "The time and the place are what makes these ideas I'm having so darned hot."

Satsuki has to close her eyes and take a steadying breath when he strokes his palm along her waist and splays his fingers across her stomach. "Is that so?"

"Mm, yes, it really is," he murmurs, lifting his other hand to draw her hair aside. Satsuki shivers again when she feels the first brush of his lips against her nape. "Not that the kinds of thoughts I have about you aren't always hot, you understand, but there's just something special about these. Don't know why that should be, but there it is."

He's stroking the pads of his fingers against her stomach, and there's no pretending that she's not feeling the twisting ache of arousal in the pit of her stomach. Not that Satsuki makes a habit of pretending not to feel the things she feels. She wets her lips. "Just what kinds of thoughts are you having?"

"Mm." He's all but purring against her ear. "I'm so glad you asked that." He slides his hand up her body and curves it over her breast. Satsuki takes a breath at the warmth of his hand and shudders when he presses his mouth against the side of her throat. "I just keep thinking about how you look when you lean over like this and your skirt rides up in the back, and how pale your skin is where it never sees the sun." Imayoshi-san presses another kiss against her throat, slow and open, and rubs his thumb over her breast, stroking it through her bra. "I can't help thinking about how easy it would be to push it the rest of the way up so I can see the sweet curve of your ass, and how pretty it'd look under my hands."

Satsuki moans softly as he slides his other hand under her blouse and finds the clasp of her bra. He unhooks it nimbly and slips his hands underneath it to stroke her skin directly. "So you're an ass man after all?" she asks. The feeling of his hands on her breasts is drawing a line of fire right down her spine, especially after he starts stroking his fingertips over the taut peaks of them.

Imayoshi-san chuckles against her ear. "Sweetheart, I'm an everything man." He nibbles the side of her throat delicately, and the scrape of his teeth draws a gasp out of her throat. "Everything about you is an incitement to riot."

Oh, it's not fair of him to go and say things like that, he knows what it does to her when he does. Satsuki moans, heat throbbing through her. "Go on…"

She feels the way his lips curve against her skin as he smiles. "It'd be so easy," he murmurs. "Don't you think? So easy to just push your skirt up and slide my hand between your legs. I could play with you until you were dripping, until you were having to fight with everything you have just to keep from screaming, and the only thing holding you up was the desk you were leaning over."

Satsuki's mouth is going dry with the quick breaths she's taking; there's something about the scenario that he's describing that wraps around the steady movement of his fingers on her breasts—it's making her just a little crazy. She squirms and presses her thighs together against the way she can feel her pulse beating between them. "Is that all?" she gasps, though it's difficult to make it come out steadily, the way this game they're playing deserves.

"No." Imayoshi-san brushes his tongue over her earlobe and begins to slide a hand down her body. "No, that's when I get you to spread yourself out for me, and then…" Satsuki shudders when she feels his hand land on the back of her thigh and he slips it up under her skirt. "That's when I fuck you silly."

Satsuki would object to that—she's never silly without it being on purpose—but he slides his hand into her panties and she comes apart on the first firm, purposeful stroke of his fingers over her clit.

"Shh," Imayoshi-san says, soft against her ear, despite the fact that he's continuing to slide his fingers back and forth even as he hushes her. "You don't want to make too much noise here at school."

"Easy for you to say," Satsuki grates out, because every deliberate movement of his fingers sends another jolt of pleasure through her. She braces herself against the desk, planting her hands wide as she gasps for breath, shaking every time another wave of pleasure rolls through her, because he doesn't seem the least bit interested in letting her come down from that edge.

Then he slips his fingers inside her, two of them that he curves to press against just the right place inside her while he grinds his palm against her clit. Satsuki groans with the sensation that seizes her, coming again, so hard that she loses track of everything but the thunder of her heartbeat in her ears and the way her body wrings tight around his fingers. And he doesn't stop, because he's a merciless bastard when he wants to be. He fucks her on his fingers until Satsuki's arms give out and she sprawls against the desk, sobbing for breath and dazed with the relentless way pleasure has crashed down on her again and again.

She curls her fingers against the slick surface of the desk when he finally shows a little mercy and eases his hand out from between her thighs. "You're terrible," she gasps, feeling as though her entire body has turned to jelly.

"I know," he says, sounding entirely too satisfied with himself, and draws the soaked mess of her panties down.

"Oh, fuck," Satsuki breathes when she feels him slide his cock between her thighs, hot and hard against her slick skin. "Fuck, you're going to kill me—ah…!" She squeezes her eyes shut, groaning with him as he sinks into her, filling her up. "Shouichi!"

He leans over her, bracing a hand against the desk and panting against her ear. "I'm a man of my word, sweetheart," he says, hoarse, and slips his hand between her thighs again, stroking her clit as he begins to move.

Satsuki cries out, heedless of where they are—heedless of everything but his cock moving inside her, driving her over the edge again, pushing her to the place where there's nothing but the relentless pulse of orgasm rolling through her, shaking her until the final staccato stutter of his hips against hers as he groans, deep and breathless, against her nape.

She comes back down slowly, and the first thing she becomes aware of is the soft movement of his lips against her throat. "You're a demon," she moans. "I don't think I can even move after that."

Imayoshi-san chuckles softly. "No rush, is there?"

Satsuki thinks of her commute home, the dinner with her family waiting for her, and all the work she has to do for school and the team. "No," she agrees. "There's no hurry at all."


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lysapadin: pen & ink painting of bamboo against a full moon (Default)
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