Chapter 0 - reasons

"How is it that you're better than me at this?" Sylvain asks in a low voice, and Ingrid has to remind herself that this isn't the right side to hit him over the back of his head. 

Instead, she says, "Is right now really the best time to make fun of me?" She punctuates this with a thrust, and Sylvain groans in such a lewd manner that she has to wonder if he's exaggerating for her sake. 

Once he's regained his composure, he replies, "Who says I'm making fun of you? Ingrid, I'm being sincere..." 

"Somehow that's hard to believe coming from you," she mutters, glad that the position they're in means that he can never see when he's made her blush. 

This was his idea, as nearly everything they do together is, and she had thought he was joking initially, and elbowed him so hard it left him coughing as he tried to recover. She only felt a little bit bad when he revealed it was sincere, but mostly she was just flustered and confused as to why he was asking for it to begin with. But he had his reasons, and she was more curious than anything else, and that's how she's ended up here. 

After so much preparation that he made fun of her for being so cautious- which, excuses her for not wanting to actually hurt him- she'd secured the toy with a harness, all without asking where or how he had obtained these things, and, slowly, after lubricating so much that he once again teased her, she had positioned herself behind him, slowly easing it into it. 

Now, she's found a rhythm that he likes, fucking him properly and discovering that she rather likes it. The toy itself is double-sided, and resting inside of her as well, which is an odd feelings, knowing that, as she fucks him, she's fucking herself. Or maybe it doesn't work like that? She isn't sure; all she knows is the combination of the toy moving inside of her with every thrust and the knowledge that she has Sylvain bent over has her feeling like she never has before. 

As much as she hates to admit it, she could really get used to this. 

Or maybe she doesn't hate to admit it, and maybe she needs to get more used to owning this. Sylvain obviously doesn't mind her taking charge, all things considered, and no matter how much he teases her, he has chosen to put her in a position where she has all the power. She holds onto his hips like he always does to her, driving into him until they're both breathless, until he can't mouth off to her anymore, and she can't question whether or not he is teasing her. 

Not that she's doing much better; she's getting close now, and she doesn't want to finish before him, but she does, and she digs her nails into his skin without even thinking about it. Sylvain's resolve is crumbling, but so is hers, and it's hard to tell if she will be able to hold out until the end, or if she even wants to. 

"I-Ingrid, I can't..." His voice is shaking, and he sounds like it's a struggle to speak at all. Any traces of cockiness have faded away, and as he admits to his own limitations, Ingrid is quick to discover that she's at her own limit. It's that damn powerlessness in his voice, the pathetic look on his face as he turns back to look at her, that does her in, and she moans in such a way that it's obvious she's come, there's no way to hide that she was done in before he was. 

He will tease her about it when all is said and done, she is sure, but then, mere seconds after her own orgasm, he crumples beneath her, with a whimper so pathetic that it is hard to imagine it came from Sylvain at all. She has never seen him so needy, has never heard him sound like this before, and all after he made her do this for him. 

Maybe, she thinks, she'll be able to tease him back. 

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