# Love And Passion

Title: Love And Passion
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang
Rating: NSFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Cada
Your fingertips rub against your temples, vainly trying to relieve the pain and pressure that has built up. Only a few more hours to go, you tell yourself. Those few hours might as well be an eternity. Feels like it. You drum your fingers on the desk quietly, not wanting to be a disturbance. Your tail thumps softly against the chair, less out of pleasure and more out of boredom. The muted noise sounds right about how you feel at the moment. The classroom is silent, the ticking of the clock barely perceptible. Tick. Tick. Tick. The hum of the overhead lights drones on and on. Your eyes scan the room, seeing the pens scritch and scratch across the papers on the desks. Circling and erasing, minute pink particles from worn down eraser heads piling on the off-white printer paper. The test shouldn’t be too hard, but there’s been plenty of bad grades going around. Seems everyone just gives up the will to try anymore, especially this close to summer. Warm sand. Glittering oceans. Cold popsicles and ice cream. Heat, of both kinds. You close your eyes – let’s not get into that one right now. You sigh, chest deflating. You always hate test day.
One of the students gets up and leaves their paper on the desk before returning to their seat and sitting quietly, staring at their hands. You wonder what her summer plans are. Judging by the outfit and apparel, the way she carries herself, and the interactions with the other classmates, you take a guess she’ll just spend the time home indoors. What a lonely existence. She’s young, she should go and explore the world. Explore it before a full-time job calls with her name on it, and she’s worn down by life. No more time for fun anymore. Another student leaves a paper. He’ll probably have girls clamoring all over him. You’re well aware of the type by now. You wonder how many students won’t be returning next year because of him. Soon, enough students have left their papers and await at their desks that you wave your hand, dismissing them. They grab and shoulder their various backpacks, handbags, and other carrying cases and shuffle out the door. Probably line the hall outside their other classrooms, or stash away to a room to spend a few minutes studying for a test. Studying hurriedly because they didn’t bother to study the week before, you chuckle to yourself. You were young once; you know how it goes.
Eventually the classroom clears out, leaving you to recline in your chair, wings stretching and twitching. You check your phone, thumbing through your social mediums. Slow day today. People you tangentially know going and enjoying their lives, oftentimes with a younger, smaller version of them alongside. Lucky. You remember when you used to be invited to things. It was fun. But people get old, work piles up, friends drift apart. Being an adult is rather boring. No escapades into the fire escape, no walking on rooftops. You should’ve done more of that when you’re younger – if you didn’t, then you surely missed out. Skipped from being a toddler to an adult with no in-between. The screen bounces back, unable to scroll further. Hm. Zoned out again. The next class is about to start, you can already hear the footsteps and approaching mass of voices as the students come closer. You pull out a drawer, getting the next stack of tests ready to pass out.
The rest of the day goes by the same, filled with boredom and waiting. Students take tests, fill them out, and then leave. Blissfully unaware of the horrible grades that await them when they return. Angry parents were always a bitch to deal with. Never understanding that you have to actually read and understand the material to get a good grade. It sure is a shame Chet can’t play on the football team due to his ‘F’, but that’s none of your personal concern. If he wanted to win the championship so badly, he should’ve studied. Why yes, call the principal in. That will turn out swimmingly, won’t it? You sigh, tucking everything back into place as you get ready to leave. You flick the lights off, finally quieting the incessant buzzing that has tickled your ears all day long. There’s a noticeable absence now, strange. Shutting the door securely behind you, hearing the mechanism click into place, you make your way down the halls and to your car. The floor is scuffed, the lockers have paint peeling in a few places. You remember everything looking younger, when you attended and were a student here. You thought you’d be young forever, but as it turns out age is a thing that happens to all. It’s sad to think about. All the adventures here, lost to everything save the unreliable mind and the walls that bore witness. You shake your head, banishing these sad thoughts. You’ve had fun, and you’ve still got plenty of fun ahead of you. Being an adult isn’t all bad.
The drive home was slow and uneventful, apart from a few particularly brave and stupid cars. Must be the teens getting ready to hit the beaches and malls. A few sharp honks usually sobers them up a bit, but there’s many familiar cars flashing red and blue to tell a tale on the contrary. Eventually the car pulls itself to the curb and you relax in the sear, enjoying the feeling of the leather. The shape and contours feel like they were made for your body, your hands slide across the steering wheel longingly. You’re so glad you bought this car. He wasn’t so sure about it, but a few puppy eyes and ‘favors’ later changed his mind awfully quick. You get out, slinging the bag over your shoulder and deciding to leave a few of the others behind. You’d get them in the morning. You walk to the door, feeling the heat of the pavement through your shoes. Anon still isn’t home yet, so that gives you plenty of time to yourself.
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You unshoulder your bag near the table and take your shoes off in the usual spot. Walking to the bathroom lets your feet soak up the coolness of the tile floor, a much welcome change from the temperature outside. You begin to strip in your room, taking off the overshirt first and wadding it up. Pants next, sliding down your legs. Hm, might need to shave those. You’ve been reduced to an undershirt and panties. Looking to a small mirror in the room you can’t help but chuckle a little. You look almost the same now as you did then, didn’t you? You undo the shirt, leaving you in nothing but your skivvies. Your hands go to your breasts, lifting them up as you turn side to side. Maybe you should lay off the carbs for a bit, you frown. Maybe it’s just the light? You pinch your side, the pliable flesh offering no objection. You turn back to the mirror, forcing to look at the whole picture. Your wings extend gracefully, sunlight filtering through. Tiny dust motes are caught in the orange ray-beams that peek through the window and paint the room. You turn, sliding one hand down your stomach and to the side, leaving it to rest on your rump. Oh yeah girl, you still got it.
​
With the rest of the clothes now discarded and placed in a hamper, you turn on the water for the shower and let it run. You open the cabinet, grabbing the razor. You glance, checking if there’s soap. The white little… whatever it’s called… has a bit of soap scum and discoloration, but no soap. Dropping to your knees you reach further into the cabinet and grab a box. One shiny black claw tip slices the cardboard open with ease, letting you palm the marbled green bar in your hand. Silly humans, needing knives. The closest they come are their fingernails, but those aren’t even in the same ballpark as these puppies. You test the water gingerly with your hand, feeling the wet warmth patter and flood the palm of your hand. Just right.
Your shower over, you let the tub fill up as you sink into it. Carefully the razor glides over your slender legs, cutting a swath through the stubble and rendering the skin left behind smooth once again. A sharp exhale leaves as pain slices through the skin and a drop of red falls, blooming mutedly in the water. A tiny rivulet of the same red as before runs astonishingly quickly down your leg before your hand can cut it off. A dip in the water and a hand clamp on the cut are the best you can do to try and mend it in the current situation. After your legs have rejoined the rest of your skin in their texture, you decide to sit in the water for a little while longer. The warm water feels heavenly as you lay there enjoying the feeling. Faintly you hear the door to the house open as Anon returns from work. After a while he makes his way to the bathroom and pokes his head in.
​
At first it was a little uncomfortable to get used to the idea of the two of you being in a bathroom at the same time. When he first suggested a shower together? Whoo boy. That was a fun one. But a few years of marriage have helped to temper any feelings of shame or embarrassment either of you had felt at such things. Your bodies, thoughts, and desires were now shared openly with one another. You were both one half of a whole, and now it seemed silly you ever thought otherwise. “We still on for tonight?” He asks. Oh that’s right, you had almost forgotten. “Yeah, it slipped my mind. Sorry.” You say, hands gripping the sides of the bathtub. His hands fly up defensively. “No, no, take your time. I’m not in a rush.” You lift yourself out of the tub, water dripping down your body and onto the fluffy mat below. Hands find a towel – marked with a small, gold, stylized “Her’s” – and you begin to wipe yourself down. “Nah, I was just sitting anyways.” He stays the duration of your drying-off, and more than once you make sure to get creative with your towel. A wink. You lean forward and kiss him as you grab the hair-dryer, and he begins to strip for his shower.
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The background chatter and noise of the restaurant fills your ears as you maneuver the fork into the pasta you had ordered. A rather enormous glass of margarita lays to the side, half empty. The familiar fog of a buzz wraps itself around your head. Anon cuts into his steak, lifting a bite of the pink-red meat to his lips and chases it with…. “What did you get to drink again?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. He glances over at the red liquid in his glass before looking back to you and shrugging. “It sounded fancy; I just ran with it.” The two of you laugh at the absurdity. The atmosphere of the restaurant was much different from that of say, Moe’s. Although you missed the familiar homely feeling of the pizza parlor, you had to admit the fancier place you were in had a certain charm to it as well. Neither of you could have expected you’d wind up here when you were both younger, the price was simply inexcusable. But now you’re both a little older, and a little richer, and it can’t hurt for a once-in-a-while type of thing. Eventually the food is gone, replaced by anecdotes and laughter. Shared in jokes. Remembering the past. Eventually you both leave, Anon taking great care to not let you see the bill as he paid for it. Judging by his expression (though he had tried to hide it) you had a feeling it would be a bit before you ate there again.
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You hold onto his arm as you both stand outside the establishment, pressing your body against his muscle. Your arms wrap around tighter and your head rests on his shoulder. Your eyes close as the effects of the alcohol hit a little harder. The buzz of the cars going down the dark streets mingles with the sound of people walking and talking, the night full of other couples of varying ages. The ugly but muted smell of car exhaust waxes and wanes as cars drive to and fro. You both walk slowly to the car, enjoying the view of the night sky. Even though city pollution might choke out the stars on occasion, the black pall of velvet was alight with little diamonds of white and a round orange moon that hung suspended in the air. The wind pushed against your dress, the silk rubbing gently against your skin. Eventually you both step into the car, you taking your place in the passenger seat. The ride home is quiet as you drift off slightly in the chair. One would think with the heat outside it would be odd to have the seat heater on, but with the car A/C blasting it had a way of working out.
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Car parked, door locked, you both walk up the path to the house. The buzzing of insects serenade you both as you half walk half waltz up to the door. You kick your shoes off at the designated spot and make your way to the bedroom. Your head has begun to throb a little. The hot outside air necessitates another shower, it looks like. ‘Look at you Mrs. Fancy,’ you think to yourself. ‘A nice dinner and three showers in one day? Next you’ll be visiting The Queen.’ Anon follows behind you, similarly stripping his sticky clothes. Neither of your attires were particularly extravagant but each were suitably tasteful. A purple silk dress that hadn’t seen the light of day for many moons, and a modest dress shirt and pants on his end. Fragrances included, of course. You both relished each other’s scent, but it never hurt to spice things up a little. You step into the bathroom, tripping over your feet slightly, and he follows suit. Oh, it’s going to be one of those nights hmm? Your head turns slightly, snout down, an eye half shut in a sultry glance. The cheeky fucker just grins. You return the smile.
​
The hot shower feels nice on your skin as you lather up, the green foam piling high on your arm and stomach. To save money at the cost of time you both share the bar, swapping it around as needed. The washrag scrapes gently against your skin, rubbing way any dead cells that might’ve accumulated. A sudden touch from behind is unexpected, but you’ve become accustomed to it. Rag in hand, anon scrapes along your stomach and side. What a sweetie. Your head leans back, enjoying the feeling. You turn around and start to clean his shoulder in return. For a few minute you proceed like this in silence, washing each other’s bodies under the pleasantly warm rain. Your head feels light and warm and foggy, and it pairs well with the sight of your partner’s body and the intimate act taking place. Eventually your hands slow as your eyes meet his, and he responds in kind. A quick kiss under the water. Then another. A nip on the neck, a hand on the back. Hands going lower, resting naughtily. Hands wandering across chests. Hands wandering lower.
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The shower was short lived, a desperate hand turning the water off. A trail of water runs from the fluffy step-mat outside the tub and spills along the small tile compartment. The trail continues across the carpeted floor of the bedroom and leads atop the bed. The two of you lay on your sides and kiss. Hands caress one another, run through hair, cup cheeks. Breast meets chest, legs rub together. The bed is damp by now but you don’t care, that’s a problem to wake up to. You slide off the bed and motion for him to sit up. Your hands go to work, coaxing and kneading against his crotch. Not like there’s much need at this point, but it never hurts. You work up a bit of saliva and let it drop against the head, twisting your hand to spread it evenly across the length. A few tugs and twists later and you let your tongue and mouth envelope it, the familiar salty taste prickling against your tongue. Your mouth bobs and your tongue presses and strokes and rubs against it. His hand finds your head and strokes the back, pushing gently and guiding you into his preferred rhythm. A few minutes pass and he taps gently, letting you know to stop. You crawl up beside and ahead of him, laying flat on the bed with your head cushioned by a pillow. His rough hands stroke your inner thighs tenderly, he trails kisses on them leading from the knee to the center. His tongue presses against your entrance, running up and down the outside of it. A quick jab in and out, testing the waters. Stirring you up. You exhale, your heart beating fast.
​
He kisses your lower lips slowly and thoughtfully as if he was kissing your face, worming his tongue in. You find his hand and hold it as he continues to lap in and out. A few twirls. He buries his nose in the downy feathers above, breathing in your scent. His other hand continues to work against your skin in tandem with his tongue. You bite your lip as things pick up. Heat builds in your cheeks and the spot between your legs, wetness flowing freely. He sticks a few fingers in, playing around. Your other hand grabs the sheets and takes a fistful as you pull it closer to you. You struggle against the bed, eyes closing. The warmth in your cheeks and crotch spreads, getting hotter and hotter. Your eyes and face tingle, your head constricts, your grip tightens. He senses this and picks up even more, driving you close to the edge. You try to move back and away, to get a breath, but his hand grabs your waist and pulls you back down again. Your hand tries pushes his face away but he remains. Your legs twitch, kicking gently and uselessly. You let out an almost keening cry, a little whine escaping your lips. Your words of protestation come as breathy pants, whispers barely making it out. Wings twitch and splay out their entire length. Your thighs clamp hard against his head, shocking him for a second, but ultimately leaving him uninterrupted. He sends you over the edge as your body twitches, the familiar feeling of orgasm grabbing hold of you at last.
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You pant, spent, throat dry and hot. Your body has relaxed now and you peer over your cheeks at him as he wipes a bit of your liquid love off his chin. He looks to you and smiles, slowly leaning. You struggle to meet him halfway as he plants a kiss on your lips. His hand goes to your chest and shoulders, massaging a bit. He grabs his penis with one hand, now thoroughly red and engorged, and pushes it gently against your slit. The post orgasm bliss has left your sex quite sensitive, and the feeling of him pushing against it is positively electric. You gasp as he enters you, tip prying your walls open to allow room for the rest of him. You squeeze around him, taking pleasure at his expression. He pulls in and out, slowly at first. You both kiss, your hands stroking his neck. He pistons in and out, the sound of flesh meeting flesh ringing through the air. Tongues wrestle sloppily with one another. Your hands pull him into another kiss, one hand dropping to splay against his chest. The other hand holds his neck and pushes his head against yours, foreheads contacting. His eyes look into yours, and the unbroken contact as he hammers in and out of you just makes the experience even more intense. You can’t help but break into a grin and laugh a little. He can’t keep the happiness from his face either. You shut your eyes, rolling your forehead against his, smile gracing your lips as you lay there and let him enter you.
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A few rest breaks and during a set of thrusts you and you flip – with him still inside – to your hands and knees. You let your chest fall against the soft bed as your ass sticks in the air. He leans over, pressing his body against yours as he dutifully thrusts in and out. He pauses after each impact, allowing both of you to savor it for a second. The entire time your womanhood has been screaming in ecstasy, another explosion of bliss having come and gone to join the first. You could barely take it anymore. Ever centimeter of flesh was crying in the most delightful agony. His hands reach under and gives one of your breasts a squeeze, thumb stroking circles and he kneads it like bread. Sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, a breathy exhalation letting him know how much you love what he’s doing to you. You squeeze harder against him, trying to trap his length inside of you like a spider captures its prey. Begging him to stay just a little longer, saddened by his brief absences. You hadn’t always had drunken sex, it had become a recent trend. A recent favorite. Blood flowing into all the right places, heads alight with woozy intoxication, it was a real treat. His head droops next to the side of yours, hot breath panting. Your hands reach behind you and stroke his skin as he presses tightly against you, pants and grunts and cries reaching a fever pitch. You’re doing that to him. You’re making him feel good, just as he does to you. Your heart is light and airy at the thought. The two of you love one another so much. Every second you have to spend at that school, every minute of paperwork, every bad encounter, every bad day, you always come home to him. You both will embrace on the couch, sharing a kiss. To the outside world you’re both adults, but behind closed doors you’ve never stopped being the honied teen pair that you had been all those years ago.
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Your legs wobble a bit as he slams into you again, the hardest so far. He bites into your neck as his arms constrict and he tries his best to bury himself into your depths as far as he can possibly go, begging and pleading to be even further. You feel his hot, searing love shoot inside of you, the arcs warm against your inner walls. The sensation drags your head back and into the air, hair falling haphazardly behind you. The both of you collapse, his weight atop you. A hand strokes his side lovingly, letting him know he did a good job. A hand finds your hair, stroking and playing with it to let you know the feeling is mutual. Consciousness drifts away as your eyes close, the feeling of warm contentment sapping your strength.
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The morning shower is cold and quiet, neither of you in a lusty mood after releasing it all last night. That isn’t to say the mutual bath is without tenderness. Now the rags and hands on one another’s bodies aren’t out of carnal desire but of love. The kisses are sweet and brief. You both towel off and put on a new pair of clothes. He goes to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee to ease the waking up process while you strip the bed of the ruined sheets. You join him in drinking the black, bitter liquid as you both recline on the couch. Hands find one another and interlink, soft skin rubbing against soft skin. “How about we hit up the beach later today?” You ask, eyes staring blankly into the wall. He swallows the mouthful of burnt ash, grimaces at the taste, and considers it. “Sure, why not?” Your lips find one another’s in another kiss as your finger plays with the wedding ring on your finger.
​
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“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
​