Red Pt1 [MF]

^((My first attempt in a very long time, feedback is welcome))

^(The original was too long to post, so here’s the first chunk. I might post the second…)

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The ceiling was very ordinary: magnolia or white at least, the dark made it impossible to discern one shade from another. Lost in thought, the man lay still, head on an unfamiliar pillow, gazing straight up, resting in another’s bed. The mattress was soft, the duvet thick and he was comfortably warm. A breeze drifted in from a window ajar and outside the occasional vehicle could be heard travelling from somewhere to somewhere else. The man ran a hand down his beard out of habit, realised and took the opportunity to check his watch. 3:30am. He sighed and smiled to himself…the imminent day was either going to suck due to lack of sleep or maybe be great due to the company. Turning his head, he took in the sight of the girl next to him. She slept on her side, back to him, red hair once teased down into loose flowing waves now an unruly mass of waves and curls in the dark. He considered rolling towards her, snuggling into her back and throwing an arm over to embrace her flat belly. Was that the done thing or too intimate? This sort of thing wasn’t a regular occurrence for him; the protocol was unfamiliar. He settled on turning onto his side and resting a hand on the hollow of the curve above her hip. Well, even if he spent the day alone and knackered at least it had been a good night. He cast his mind back. A fucking good night. Because of her.

***

The club was warm and loud, as all nightclubs were when they got busy. Smoke from smoke machines lingered in the air, hazing in the haphazard lighting. He’d only been to this one a handful of times as his regular haunt still hadn’t reopened despite most people now being vaccinated against the waning pandemic, so as a result this den was more busy than usual but only had a handful of familiar faces. Hair thrown back and hanging halfway down to his arse, clad in boots, dark camouflage combat trousers and a Scandinavian metal t-shirt, he could’ve fitted into any Rock or Metal night anywhere; music has a way of allowing people to feel comfortable in new surroundings by virtue of familiarity. The DJ was playing something by a band that he knew but the song escaped him. The dancefloor was heaving with hands, hair, grimaces and smiles flashing from the sea of bodies. He wasn’t much of a dancer these days, if he ever had been, so he’d found a place at the edge of one of the several bars which allowed him to view a good swathe of the venue and try to catch a feel for the demographics within. A few acquaintances wandered past and either nodded a greeting or stopped to exchange pleasantries, discussing mutual friends and the infrequently visited surroundings, but no-one really stuck around for long. His watch vibrated a notification against his wrist. Checking it he was disappointed to see that his best friend still wasn’t quite 100% and wouldn’t be meeting him with apologies and lamentations comprising the bulk of the message.

The man swigged from his plastic pint of beer, cider and blackcurrant, assessing the situation. The evening was progressing kindly enough; the atmosphere was uplifting and the music pleasing but without his brother-in-antics the night was incomplete. Incomplete is hardly broken, he thought and ordered another snakebite and black. He’d give it one more pint and see how he felt after that…there wasn’t anywhere else to go but home and really he, and everyone else here, had been couped up at home for quite long enough. Roughly a year and a bit indoors was too long for most people, even gamers who spent most of their time online at home already. He pulled his phone from his pocket and started tapping out a placating reply when something caught his eye. Looking up, that something was a cascade of red hair, and that red mane was attached to a girl who had just walked up to some friends a ways off in front of him, enthusiastically embracing them before vanishing into that small crowd.

This is the kind of hook that interesting events are hung upon, he mused, looking back down at his phone and finishing his reply. He faffed for a few minutes browsing social media sites before pocketing his phone and moving his attention back to the people around him. Specifically one group of people in particular. Studying the group as surreptitiously as possible he concluded that he didn’t recognise any of them, so approaching them for a catch-up and angling for a closer look that way was an avenue closed to him. At that moment he realised that he’d been busted: the redhead had moved amongst the group; she was now facing him across that lot, studying him studying them. He blanched and pulled a classic “Oh fuck” face for a second, looking away for a moment and then back to the group. The girl was hugging the closest person in her group to him, while snatching another glance at him over their shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and half-smiled at her in what he hoped was a quasi-innocent and friendly gesture. Well, not busted maybe, he assessed, but noticed? Certainly. The girl frowned at him briefly then broke eye contact, drawn back into conversation. A texted reply from his absent brother caused him to instinctively glance at his wrist, when he looked back up the current highlight of his evening had vanished from view.

Scowling, he looked down at his pint, the reddish drink beading the cup with condensation. He drained half the glass and turned back to his phone and his friend’s message.

“Last Fair Deal Gone Down?”

He looked up sharply. The girl was right there, standing not a metre from him.

“Sorry?” he replied, looking bemused.

“The album,” she gestured to his Katatonia shirt, “…or are you not really a fan?”

“Oh! That’s actually the album that got me into the band, but I think these days I prefer Night Is The New Day or Tonight’s Decision. You?”

“I’m not a massive fan, but Viva had some great moments but Unfurl is probably one of my faves.”

Viva Emptiness is a damn good album, but Unfurl is a fairly unknown B-side of a single so Red knew her stuff. This was a nice surprise. To be fair, the whole encounter so far was a nice surprise.

“Well, you’ve got good taste so far…” he paused…

She told him her nickname.

“Really? You don’t seem so…” he glanced down.

“Hold on…” the girl replied, reaching out to hold his shoulder. She lifted her opposite foot out sideways to allow him a good look.

“Those…are fucking massive!” the man exclaimed. Her boots were indeed fucking massive, leather festooned with straps and buckles, the soles at least 6″ high.

He allowed his gaze to move upwards. Slim but curved legs were encased in those impressive boots, tattoos partially obscured by tinted nylon and nightclub lighting. A sensible dark above the knee skirt was about her waist and her upper half was clad in a snug black long-sleeve top which displayed her smooth pale shoulders. Hints of ink were visible at the top of the sleeves and her hair hung down over her shoulders, just reaching the material of her top. Her red mane framed a face which was heart-shaped, made fuller by killer cheekbones. Her eyes seemed a light shade of blue, highlighted by sharp eyeliner which was well defined but subtle. A strong nose hinted at a strong personality without dominating or drawing attention from the rest of her face, and her lips were modestly full with just a hint of gloss. With her septum and finger jewellery glinting in the shifting club lighting she was easily the best thing he’d seen all night…or all week for that matter.

“You’re not exactly un-massive yourself!” she exclaimed, “How tall are you?”

“Only six foot…” he replied.

“Only! Don’t take the piss, Mister!” the girl laughed. “How big are those fucking feet?”

The man smirked, several associations occurring to him. “About a twelve.”

“Jesus,” she said.

“Not quite.” he replied.

“…Pinhead?” she suggested inquisitively.

“Nicely done, Hellraiser III indeed, good spot! Doug Bradley fan?”

“Maybe.” she replied coyly.

He smiled. This girl seemed a good’un. “Your hair is far more impressive than my feet! Would you like a drink?”

“There’s some innuendo there…but I wouldn’t mind what you’re having, but hold the beer,” she replied, “besides, you’re almost out yourself.”

He looked at his drink, he’d been so focused on her that he hadn’t noticed he’d been drinking.

“Righto, one cider and black comin’ right up.” the bar tender was particularly attentive and the drinks were supplied post-haste. He handed her the pint.

“Thank you for the drink, I don’t mean to take the piss but will you be here for a while?” she asked.

“I will be now…”

“Great, I’ll be back soon. Thanks for the drink, Six Foot Man!”

“You’re…welcome…?” he said, watching her walk away with a nice new drink. He rattled his tongue-bar against his teeth. The girl re-joined her small group, a few of them looking over at him and giggling before huddling up to talk. She glanced over at him grinning from ear to ear but not laughing, which was promising. The night had improved somewhat.

Time at the bar passed slowly. The redhead had come and gone from her group, walking past him a few times, offering only the occasional lingering glance before vanishing into the throng again. He did glimpse her on the dancefloor swaying to a Tool song, she’d noticed and beckoned to him, but he awkwardly smiled a refusal, having no intention to show himself up with his lack of dancing talent. She smiled, pouted, and swayed, dancing with her eyes closed, mouthing the words: “It’s not enough/I need more/Nothing seems to satisfy. I don’t want it/I just need it/To breathe, to feel, to know I’m alive…” He knew the song and it was a bloody good one. He felt a warmth within him; a satisfaction watching this beautiful creature enjoying herself. Soon the girl had vanished from sight again, so he turned and leaned on the bar, nursing a new pint. After what seemed like an age, but by his reckoning was only about six songs so roughly half an hour tops, he felt someone push in next to him at the bar, leaning into his arm.

“Hey Six. Bored?”

“Welcome back, Red. No, not yet.” he shot her a sideways glance. “Are you here every week?”

“Some weeks, depends on uni work and other stuff,” she replied. “You?”

“Eh, The Cave was my main hangout but it’s still not reopened yet, I’ve been here a few times and it seemed better than sitting at home in my pants gaming or painting.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Aye,” he smiled down at her, “far better.”

“Oh?” she smiled back.

“Aye. Care for another?”

“Sure. Khajiit has wares if you have coin!” she nodded towards the bar staff.

“Skyrim or Cyrodiil?”

“Skyrim.” she replied.

“A fair choice. You know, I saw a video where a player spawned a load of items and sent an avalanche of toes, cheese and junk down a mountain with a word of power.” Drinks appeared. “No, not toe-cheese! Giant toes and wheels of cheese! Fuck me, it’s loud in here!”

She snorted in amusement and sipped her cider and blackcurrant. “Let’s go for a wander then, we can’t have you getting…bored.”

Leading him around the outside of the dancefloor she angled away from the bustle and noise. Upon finding a dim seating area close to the cloakroom they occupied a pair of opposite seats and had a natter. It transpired that they had a few interests in common, such as music and films, but their main draw was fantasy gaming. Talk extolling the virtues of Warhammer entwined with disbelief that she played D&D, laughs about arrows to knees, fun boardgames and other nerdery was bandied about. An unknown amount of time passed. The DJ vacated the booth to allow another to take over.

The man pulled a face.

“What’s up?”

“Really not a Prodigy fan. At all. At The Cave they always play them solid for half an hour from midnight, it pretty much makes me go home.”

“Wow. Well…you’re not going to like this…”

“Don’t tell me they picked that up here too? Fuck’s sake.” the man said.

“Tell you what…I have an idea that might please us both”

“You have my absolute attention.”

“Well…” she paused. He heard her draw in a breath. “…I don’t usually say this but I wondered if you wanted to come back to my place? I’ve not been out for quite a while and this place is getting a bit…much. Maybe we could have a bit of fun?”

The man was very much enjoying his night but he hadn’t expected this. He glanced down and noticed her hand upon his knee. How long had that been there?

“Titch,” he looked her in the eye, “that sounds like a magnificent plan and I’m sure there’s fun to be had.”

She stood up. “What are you waiting for, Six?”

“After you, Red.” He was pleased they were conveniently right near the cloakroom for a quick exit.

The wait for a cab was brief and they enjoyed a huddle for warmth, the journey home was not much longer than the wait. She unlocked the door to her flat’s lobby and ushered him in. Once inside, he turned and pulled her gently to his chest, given her ample opportunity to object and held her briefly. As she pulled away he whispered for her to wait. She looked up at him and in the light of the lobby, Six got to see her face properly for the first time. The dim club lighting had obscured the finer details: her eyes were a light blue, so pale they were almost silver with cats-eye makeup utterly on-point. Delicate eyebrows arched over carefully done eyelashes. People would kill for cheekbones like that and her hair was a rich colour slightly more red than auburn. In short, she was fucking beautiful. She was also studying him intently.

“Fucking hell…” he breathed, brushing her hair on one side back behind her ear.

“Yes?” she fluttered her eyelashes at him in a display of faux bashfulness.

“You’re…” the man cleared his throat. “…upstairs?” he flicked his eyes upwards.

“Ayup. We’ll take the lift, I’m not a fan of stairs in these boots after wearing them for hours.”

“Do you want a carry, m’lady?” the man smirked.

“Cheeky bastard!” she laughed and hit the lift button.

As the small lift ascended, they hugged again. As they held the embrace, the man quietly moved a hand up to the top of her head at the back, buried his hand into her hair and gently scratched circles on her scalp. She purred and went limp against him just as the lift dinged at her floor.

“This way, Cheeky.” she led him down the hallway and unlocked a door, leading him inside. She took off her coat and hung it upon a hook by the door. He followed suit with his Opeth hoody and removed his boots. She gestured for him to sit on a couch in the next room and offered him a drink.

“Just water, please. With ice if you have any.”

She walked over, slightly awkward on her feet, with water for them both and sat down next to him.

“Thank you. This is a nice place. Is it just you here?”

“Yes. Hold on a moment…”

She leaned forward, undoing one boot, removing it, and then the other. She flexed her toes, rubbing the soles of her feet as she did so.

“Feel free to put those up here.” said the man, patting his lap.

“You’re sure? They’ve been in those a while…”

“Very.”

The girl swivelled in her seat and placed both feet on the man’s lap. He selected a foot and with his left hand, rubbing her toes between his thumb and first two fingers, and started to massage the sole with his right. The girl closed her eyes, groaned and leaned herself back into the couch as his thumb worked it’s way over the bottom of her foot. He switched his attention to the other foot.

“Do you like feet, Six?”

“Depends on the feet. Yours, yes. In general, not really.” he looked at her feet clad in tights. The nails sported no coloured varnish but they were well looked after. “I do know how to use my hands to relax people, though,” he said and gave her sole a playful rake, his nails gliding over the smooth material. The girl squealed and pulled her feet back.

“Tease!” she laughed at him. “What sort of fun are you expecting?” She cocked her head to one side and studied his face as the man considered an appropriate response.

“That, is entirely up to you. Talking, quiet cuddling and TV, a game of something…or not. I’m sure you’ll not disappoint. I’m a bit too tired to pick up Advanced D&D though!”

The redhead looked thoughtful, then prowled towards him on her hands. She planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, keeping eye contact as she stood up.

“Tired!” she admonished him and padded over to an open hallway, he heard a light switch click and a door close.

“Fucking tired!” the man muttered to himself, “you absolute dickhead.” He eyed his water and took a gulp, then lifted the glass to study a few bubbles. “I wonder if you guys are the only things to go up in the world this evening?” he said quietly.

He heard a door open. “Hey, can I borrow you a moment please?” the request drifted from the open portal, frustratingly vague in it’s implication.

“Sure,” he got up and walked across the room holding his glass, “but I don’t have any D20s to roll on me…”

The attempt at humour was totally arrested by the girl before him. Stood in the hallway was a striking vision clad in green. Partially clad, anyway.

She had changed out of her club-wear, or she may have had it on underneath, he couldn’t tell, and into something that would certainly be classed as “more comfortable”.

The lingerie was a two-part matching set of an unusual shade of dark teal, strongly contrasting with both red hair and pale skin. He breathed in slowly and drank in the sight of her. The material was lacy and classy; the upper piece a bralette with thin shoulder straps, the lower seemed to have a translucent strip panel running across it’s front but modesty was preserved. But just as striking was what the outfit didn’t cover. A large art piece was mostly hidden beneath her top: a crescent moon visible in her slight cleavage; strings of pearls or beads were inked hanging out below the fabric. A cat’s head set before some blossoms snarled from one upper arm, the other arm was covered in a full sleeve of woodland creatures, flowers and gradient-shaded mandala patterns. Flowers also bloomed up one of her hips, rising from an image of a weeping pink-haired girl’s head wearing what seemed to be a fox headdress. Tolkien’s Elvish talwar script flowed neatly across her opposite thigh, he didn’t even try to translate it, not knowing if it was originally English or Sindarin before being committed to the girl’s smooth milky flesh. Her shins were also decorated with art; one by roses and scrollwork, the other by a mythical jackalope. A silver barbell was set in her belly-button. The woman before him was utterly unique and breathtakingly beautiful from hair to toe.

“Fucking hell…” he breathed, not for the first time that night.

“Still tired?” the girl mocked with a gloriously warm smile. Her voice was low and breathy.

“So…that fun you mentioned…” he offered.

“Good choice. The nerdy fun happens in there,” she said, indicating to another door with a tilt of her head, “but the other fun…” she held out a slender ringed hand and led him into the bedroom. Her panties were not so modest from behind, displaying a generous amount of her shapely rear. In the centre of the back wall was a double bed with an elegant black metal frame, covered by a dark duvet displaying astrological symbols of some sort. The light in the room was provided by a pair of candles burning on a bedside cabinet. She turned around, gently grasped his face and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. She was definitely deserving of her nickname; without her boots she was short indeed but it just added to her already significant charm. Here, in her domain she moved with a confidence that was intoxicating. Without breaking the kiss she manoeuvred him so that the back of his legs were touching the bed and undid his hefty belt buckle.

“Jesus, that’s a thing! Doesn’t it get in the way!?” she exclaimed, glancing downwards.

“Sorry, what?” the man whispered, “Oh, normally it’s tucked away underneath!”

The girl laughed. “I was talking about the buckle,” she caressed the front of his trousers slowly. “Not this.”

“One sec.” Suddenly feeling somewhat over-dressed, the man swiftly removed his trews and threw them behind her, the skull buckle thumping on the floor.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better.” she responded. Her hand resumed it’s caressing, more gently this time. With her other hand she held the back of his neck, lowering his head and lifted her lips to his ear.

“What is your pleasure, sir?” she breathed and licked his lobe.

The man shivered. “Yours.”

She looked up at him questioningly, grey eyes searching for an explanation in his smiling face.

“Mine is yours.” he stated, planting a brief kiss upon her lips. Once again he buried a hand into the mane of hair towards the top of her crown, this time closing it firmly on the roots of her hair, pulling the hair tight but not enough to hurt. She gasped and he gently tilted her head back, carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. His other hand he placed into the small of her back, keeping her body against his. He began to turn her around, slowly.

“Redheads…” he said, kissing her lips again, “…with blue eyes…” he kissed her cheek, slowly moving her head to the side, “…equate to…” he placed another kiss closer to her ear “…less than two percent…” he licked her ear lobe and was surprised to find it free of jewellery, “…of the world’s population.” and then nibbled her earlobe before drawing it into his mouth with his teeth before sucking on it.

“Fucking hell…” she whispered, eyes closed.

He released her ear. “And you, nymphy minx, have to be one of the most beautiful of that tiny, tiny fraction.” he whispered. His hand began to travel up her back as he released her hair and massaged that area with his nails. She let out a small gasp. His hand was now on her clasp.

“And that makes you very special, whether you feel it or no.”

He gently ran his cheek against hers until his lips met hers once more. She kissed him hungrily pulling his face onto hers with both hands. When she pulled away seconds later, her bra was undone. The man untangled his hand from her hair and moved the rich red waves back over her shoulder, revealing more ink running along the top of her delicate trapezius. He studied it for a moment and smiled as she removed her loose garment.

“Moria was one of the best parts of Fellowship.” he told her.

“I know,” she retorted, “Come here.”

She pulled him in close again to kiss, he felt her hard nipples against his chest and her heat through his t-shirt. He gently leaned forwards and the girl held around his neck, allowing him to lower her slowly to her soft bed, her legs hanging over the side. A long kiss of dancing tongues had an epilogue of kisses about her face which made her screw her face up and giggle. He pulled back to study her again as he rested on his fists. She really was extraordinary. He cast his gaze down to her chest. The design he’d seen glimpses of was what looked like a fruit bat hanging upside-down, it’s wings spread out across her ribs beneath her breasts.

“They’re not much; I have to work with what I’ve got.” she admitted, gently running her nails across the back of his neck.

“I actually wasn’t looking at those.” he confessed. Just a hint of ribcage was visible when she breathed. “But on you,” he leaned in to quickly kiss each pink peak “they are fucking perfect.” Her smile turned into a gasp as he quickly sucked a rock-hard nip into his mouth and ran his tongue and it’s piercing over and around it. She exhaled and held the back of his head, loving the attention.

The man pulled away, crouching between her knees and took a swig of his water from the glass next to the bed, holding it for a moment before swallowing. Before she realised what this implied, he descended to her other nipple and sucked it straight into a freezing cold mouth.

“Oh!!” she exclaimed as he worried her sensitive bud with a cold tongue, “You fucking cheeky…uh…” He doubted her nipples could get much harder. He sucked firmly on the one he was pleasuring and captured it with his teeth. The girl hissed and he eased up the pressure while getting his tongue involved again.

“Hmmmmmmmm.” she murmured.

He briefly turned his attention back to her other breast before lifting his head up. “You’ll have to excuse me, beautiful, there’s somewhere that I need to be.”

“What?!” she raised her head off the bed to look at him, eyes wide, an element of shock giving her voice a hard edge.

“You’ll see,” the man smirked, kissing the bat over her breastbone. He began to kiss his way downwards.

“Oh! In that case…” she laughed, flopping her head back onto the bed as he flicked a tongue into her belly button, clicking his barbell onto hers. She giggled and gently pushed his head a bit further south. His hands, however, has no intention of migrating just yet; starting at her hips he ran his nails up the hollows of her sides and traced figures of eight on her ribs. She squealed and squirmed deliciously, shoulders shifting this way and that.

Mouth met material. He moved his mischievous hands up from her sides to her front, spreading one over each bat wing; fingers to the side, thumbs towards the centre of her chest: a “W” of imminent misbehaviour. He lifted his face up from her undies and paused. She raised her head and looked down herself at him inquisitively. Their eyes met and he smiled. Before she could ask, he fanned the spread fingers of each hand inwards and back out twice, like he was waving. Her nipples, extremely prominent thanks to his ongoing ministrations, had no hope of escaping the rapid stimulation. Another gasp escaped her and she arched her back, pushing her chest into his hands.

Pressing his advantage, he closed his thumbs and forefingers firmly around her nipples and rolled them. She turned her head to the side, eyes closed, and whimpered. As he did this he moved his face to between her legs, inches from the teal fabric. Some of it was slightly darker than the rest. An unmistakable compliment, he thought, gladly. As the girl whimpered he touched the tip of his nose to the lowest point of the dampness and gently ran it upwards. It seemed that her entire body twitched and the whimper became something more vocal as the sensations from breasts and nethers vied for supremacy.

Giving a final tweak with his hands he ran his nails back down her sides as the tip of his tongue traced her flesh along the edge of the waistband. His hands continued downwards, palms running along the outside of her thighs feeling the subtle contours of the muscle there. At her knees he reached around to circle the backs of them with his fingertips before moving his cupped hands down her calves to her ankles. He approved of the goosebumps forming on her skin. Fingers ran under her heels to skitter nails along the soles of her bare feet, soliciting a giggle from the bed. She kicked her feet slightly as if to shake off an unwanted insect, a reaction that he noted. He grabbed and held her feet as he planted a quick kiss onto that deep teal. She gasped and twitched again. He released her feet, moving his fingers over the tops and began to slowly rise his hands up the inside of her calves. He didn’t stop at the knee this time, but slowed his ascent early along her inner thighs, taking the time to plant teal kisses that lingered more with each press of his lips onto hers. His hands finally reached their destination: the juncture of inner thigh and fabric. He kneeled up for a better view of her body, getting comfy on his knees as he did so. He slowly moved the fingertips of his right hand through the short distance to the gusset of her panties. His little finger touched first, and the nail ran downwards as lightly as he could, swiftly joined by the nails of his ring, middle and index fingers in quick sequence so for a heartbeat all four fingers were teasing her before curling away in the same order they’d arrived in. He risked a quick but barely audible sniff, detecting a definite faint musk which was equal parts pleasant and inviting. Before any doubt could form as to his approval he placed two quick kisses on her mound.

“It’s not a fucking scratch and sniff” the girl whispered. The tone was slightly higher: he could hear her smiling. A frustrated moan escaped her lips as the man kissed her again, keeping his lips in place and gently pressing the tip of his tongue into the damp material.

He ran his fingers along the edge of the material inside each thigh. He slowly and carefully hooked three fingers into the decorated elastic and paused.

“May I?” he whispered, knowing that the respect was both necessary and rewarding.

“Please,” she whispered back, “It’s been fucking ages.”

With deliberate tardiness he pulled her damp gusset aside to reveal an oasis to a lost traveller. The lips were already flushed with colour, bare of any covering. Her labia were compressed almost flat, a promising mash of secret folds. Above them glinted the two metal balls of a small barbell passing through her clitoral hood.

“Ohhhhh, ” the man breathed to himself, considering where to start. He reached down and ran a finger along his hardening self through his black boxers. He knew.

He leant in and gently blew over the moist flesh and before the owner could react, licked her quickly, flicking his tongue up through the slight tangle, separating her delicate inner lips to their natural state. His reward was twofold: a low “Ahhhhh” was pulled from the girl’s throat, and his tongue tasted a hint of her unique tang. He kissed her lips twice more, the second lasting longer than the first. He released the material to rest between herself and her thigh.

“As nice as these are…” he suggested, hooking two fingers of each hand into the front of her waistband, then sliding them around to each side.

She nodded in agreement, lifting her rear from the duvet, allowing him to pull the garment towards him and then up and off her legs as she raised them up straight. They ended up tossed onto his discarded trousers. She lowered her knees down onto his shoulders, legs hanging behind him. She knew full well what the next logical step was.

“All in good time, minx.” thought the man, thoroughly enjoying his efforts.

He knew that often a longer route was the most rewarding way to get to a destination. Rather than go for the obvious target, as enticing as it certainly was, he simply turned his face to her inner thigh, opened his mouth and bit. Not too hard, but definitely enough to catch some skin and keep it there with minimal effort. He heard the girl breathe out sharply. He released the skin and licked it. There was barely a mark. He placed a hand under her rump to lift her pelvis sightly, cheekily parting her buttocks a tiny bit as he did so. He moved his mouth up her thigh a few inches and repeated the nipping. He felt her bumcheeks tighten and release with each pinch of the teeth. Finally his lips arrived at hers. Instead of focusing on her foof, he exhaled a long, warm breath upon it, then moved his face to partway up her other thigh…and bit. The girl wiggled her arse on his hands as she sought to be touched where she wanted. With the same insolent pace, the man bit and licked up along her leg. Once again, his mouth arrived at the inevitable destination.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/oio9oa/red_pt1_mf