redamancy ❣︎ ghost fics & drabbles

the polaroid collection: cumulus

this ficlet is based off of my full-length fic "picture this" which is available on my ao3

swiss x cumulus

explicit photographs, boob fucking

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"Mark them up good," Cumulus breathes, moaning pretty when Swiss sucks a nipple between his teeth and nibbles, her other enveloped by his palm. His hands are large, it drives her crazy, but her breasts are larger and spill out on all sides. In most cases he's able to make his partners feel small. Not here. Here, her breasts and her thighs and her tummy make him spin with desire, long to get his mouth on them. She loves the hold she has on him.

"Get them all pretty for the picture. You only have one chance to make it perfect."

This is untrue. Swiss actually has eight whole tries to get the photo right, and another fresh cartridge of film waiting for him in his bedroom, but he lets it slide, nonetheless. Besides, it's a lot hotter like this: when he's sucking his own name into her skin with his mouth and getting her all ready. Making sure she's picture-perfect.

"I'm trying," he says while pressed up against her skin. "Making my mouth all sore."

Cumulus sighs, rolls her eyes for dramatic effect and tsks as she looks down into Swiss' big brown eyes. He's already cum twice, once inside of her and the other across her stomach, and they're somehow still flooded with lust and desire, pleading and begging silently to devour her again. She doesn't know how he does it... Her own clit twitches and throbs at the sight of him, nearly lost in the thin patch of curls painted across his chest, but she tries not to make it too obvious. He can probably feel it where it's buried in the hair on his tummy and making him slick with burning need. If he does, he doesn't say anything.

"It's your picture," she says, much too cool for how he's spitting and drooling over her breasts like she'll combust if he doesn't, spreading it thin with his fingers and his tongue until they shine and present themselves exquisitely under her warm bedroom light. "Don't mess it up."

She doesn't mean the cold bite behind her words, of course, but it still makes Swiss work harder nonetheless to make sure the messy 'S' he's marked into the top of her breast, just above her nipple, is at least semi-legible for the camera. It sort of is. It looks as if a child had tried to write the letter for the first time with a bleeding marker on wet paper–uneven and bulging at different sections–and it's obvious that he's not going to be able to get the rest of his name on her if he wants to keep his erection up. Just to save time he unsheaths a claw and carves his name into her breast with the tip, smiling while she keens with the painful burn and waits for her pale gray skin to bloom with pretty purple lines, all while allowing his right hand to float down between their bodies to tug quickly at his dick.

He looks over his masterpiece, at hickeys old and new, faded greens and yellow and fresh purples and reds. They're gorgeous alongside the various crimson-colored bites he made with his teeth and the tin, pinprick holes he accidentally made with his fangs when he got too carried away sucking on her sensitive nipples. And right on top, standing out like a beacon, is his name.

His name.

Just looking at it on her, claiming her, telling anyone who sees her who she really belongs to, makes him throb and his balls clench up. He drops his forehead right into the valley between them and groans as he circles his palm over his sensitive head and thumbs at the tip.

Cumulus arches her back to bring him back to her–force him back into the present. He unhinges his jaw and bites into her flesh, leaving behind an angry red print of his teeth before angling his face back up towards her own. He's pained with desire.