Birds of Feather

Chapter 20: Oratorium

You had been so sure.

Or maybe you hadn't. Maybe you had already lost surety the moment the parameters were laid out before you. You liked control, you wanted control, but the way he said it, the promise of everything after, crumbled all the pride and desire for control you could have hoped to hold before it started.

Not that you think he did that on purpose. Not consciously at least. You could tell from the words that he spoke and the easy way he acted during your little competition that he wasn't concerned about losing control. He'd do as you ask, following your instructions just as easily as he'd been willing to give them.

But every shift of his clothing as he moved. Every drop of warmth from fingers that lingered along your shoulders. Warmth you shouldn't even have been able to feel through two layers of clothes! All of it just seemed to erode your resolve, your very desire.

And so, a couple hours later, one large stuffed pineapple as your prize, won by him, here you were. Standing in the middle of your living room, shoe-less and still. Waiting for him to tell you what to do.

So far he seemed content to just sit on the couch and look at you.

He'd taken his wool jacket off and was just sitting on the couch in slacks and a turtleneck. You could see his eyes moving over you, even in the relative darkness of the room. Neither of you had turned on a light, moving through the space just by the light of a few electronics and digital clocks.

"Having a hard time deciding?" You question after another minute or two of standing there.

"Maybe I'm enjoying admiring you." He offers, gaze flicking up to yours.

"You were looking at me the entire time we were at the carnival." You mutter, eyes slipping away from the intense stare. An intensity that was more impressive given the relaxed expression he had on his face.

"True." He admits, standing up from the couch and stepping toward you. There's a shiver that rolls through you as you feel like you've gone from being admired to being hunted. Glancing at Marco there's nothing different. The expression on his face is unchanged, but something is different.

"It is a little difficult to decide." He muses, stepping around you.

"O-o-oh?" You watch him walk out of your line of sight, and it's everything you have in you to stay still as he moves around behind you.

Warm hands are on your waist as an answer, and you can feel him lean down a little to speak closer to your ear.

"Do I ask you to strip for me, yoi," he begins. "Do I strip you myself? Maybe I leave as much on you as I can, and take you while you're still mostly clothed." His voice is low, hot breath making way for dry, steady kisses around your neck as he moves the collar of your top aside gently. "Do I sit on that couch and have you ride me, or do I bend you over your dining table and just take you?"

You let out a gasp of air at the next kiss against your skin. "If you don't decide soon, I might c-cum just listening to you."

"Mm, that turned on, pretty bird?"

You nod, a simple yes falling from your lips in breathy shards.

"That desperate?"

Your fingers flex and your body tenses a little. "Get-getting there." You murmur, feeling too hot, and too constricted as you were.

"Maybe I can just bend you over here." His voice wraps around your throat with more demands than his hands. "Pull these leggings down a little, and hold you in place by your arms."