BY : Rina76
Category: Final Fantasy Anime > Final Fantasy 7: Advent Children
Dragon prints: 1486
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII Advent Children or any of the characters from the film. I am not making money from the writing of this story.

Part 7.

As we’re working our way through the human swarm on the dance floor and beginning to head towards the bathrooms, I tug Loz down to me, yelling probably a little louder than I need to, “Do you have protection?”

“Don’t need it,” he replies in an unconcerned manner. “I might not have my weapons but I can still hit really hard. Like I said before, you don’t gotta worry about us getting harassed.”

“I mean a condom,” I stress, lowering my voice. “That kind of protection. Do you have one?”

“Oh. Shit, I don’t have any.” Loz’s face falls in dismay as he considers the possibility of not getting any sex after all but then he suddenly brightens, like he’s got an idea. “Wait - I know who does. Stay here.”

He positions me in front of a tree-fern that’s taller than I am so he knows where to find me again. “Don’t move, all right?”

“Not moving,” I reply promisingly and watch as he scans the room, searching for a silver head very similar to his own. Locating who he’s looking for Loz carves through the crowd with determined strides, shoving aside anyone too slow or drunk to get out of his road. At the bar with a bottle of water in his hand, Kadaj tilts his head inquiringly at Loz’s purposeful approach, Loz leaning down to speak to his little brother, asking for what we need. Much like before, Kadaj’s eyes slice straight over to me with the swiftness and sharpness of a sword. He seems infuriated and appalled that I’m actually going to sleep with Loz in spite of his very scary warning but I’m too drunk and horny to be affected by his glowing green glare. I smile pleasantly and send him a friendly fuck-you finger. He turns aside in revulsion, as if I’m some filthy prostitute with a festering venereal disease. I keep smiling. Kadaj can go screw himself. I don’t care what he thinks. Kid needs to lighten up and let big brother live his own life. Not at that point yet, Kadaj argues with Loz, obviously attempting to talk him out of this, acting as though him getting laid is the worst idea ever, but then Loz growls something threatening and holds out his hand demandingly. Caving in, Kadaj sighs in a dramatic fashion and then digs in a secret compartment of his suit, finally passing over the object of dispute. When Loz tries to thank him, Kadaj just rolls his eyes and shoves him in the chest, shaking his head in disgust as he walks away. Not affected by his little brother’s moodiness, Loz grins triumphantly, stuffs the condom into his pocket and, armed and ready for action, he begins to cross back to where I’m excitedly waiting. I have the urge to do a victory dance but don’t because I’d only look like an idiot. It’s just that condom = love.

Looks like I’m not the only one getting love tonight. I’ve located Yazoo amongst the crowded club, hidden in a corner making out with that eccentric black-haired boy, pressing him up against the wall and forcing him to straighten his curved spine. Not that the kid looks like he minds, not with Yazoo’s glove gliding up the inside of his baggy white top, over his waist and ribs, clearly heading for a nipple to play with. As he’s doing that, Yazoo rocks his leather-cloaked hip into the other male’s jean-covered groin, skilfully teasing and arousing with his strong, slender body while the bare-footed brunette hangs somewhat helplessly off the back of Yazoo’s chest straps with his spidery fingers. The ends of Yazoo’s long silvery hair brush over the younger man’s knuckles. Head angled to the left and his eyes closed in a drugged manner, Yazoo strokes his tongue in and out of the boy’s accepting mouth, sensually and deeply, the act more like slow fucking than kissing.

Damn. That’s one lucky, lucky boy.

Seeing that scene of total hotness just emphasises how much I need sex right now and when Loz gets back to me I snatch his hand and start leading him along, walking as fast as I can without actually running. I don’t see the people I’m passing by, only my goal which is the staircase at the back of the club and where it leads to. We clamber down those stairs and go past the women’s restrooms, then the men’s, eventually arriving at the famed disabled toilet. And it’s vacant. We’re just about to push the door open and go in when someone comes sauntering out of the male toilets and spots us. It’s that sassy guy with the butt-length red hair. We all stop and stare at each other. He glances between Loz and I and the bathroom door, quickly putting one, two and three together.

“And what are we up to?” he enquires with fake sweetness.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” Loz retorts rudely.

“My, my. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Piss off.”

I look at Loz and then this other guy, sensing a strange undercurrent of resentment and antagonism happening here. Perhaps they are rival hit-men, although Red Boy doesn’t have that dangerous I-kill-for-money vibe about him. The only vibe I’m getting off him is a smart-ass, slacker one. Being so lanky and casually attired, he doesn’t look like a highly-trained assassin either but I suppose I could be wrong.

“Do you two know each other?” I venture.

“If by ‘know’ you mean ‘hate’, then yeah. We know each other /real/ well,” Loz answers in a sardonic drawl.

The redhead peers at me in disbelief, his blue almond-shaped eyes squinting slightly. “Are you really going in there with THAT?” He jerks his chin towards Loz. “You could have /me/, you know. I could thank you for the drinks money.” A suggestive leer spreads across his face. “In any way you like.”

Bristling like a wolverine about to attack, Loz snarls, “Don’t you even /talk/ to her, Shin-Ra slave.”

Beginning to bristle back, the goggle-wearing guy states indignantly, “I’m nobody’s slave, yo.”

“Oh yeah?” Loz eyes him up and down with narrowed pupils. “That uniform you’re wearing says you are.”

“Well, what does your uniform say about you?” The second male counters. “I’m a big queer triplet with a leather fetish?”

“I ain’t queer,” Loz replies in that same dangerously quiet tone he used with the cowboy that groped me before. “Say that again and I’ll rip your rat-tail off and strangle you with it.”

Far from being intimidated, the smaller man looks like he’s going to laugh. “Oh no, I’m really scared. What are you freaks doing here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be out looking for dear old mom?”

Loz visibly tenses. “Shut up!”

“Or what? You gonna cry?”

At the taunting, Loz releases a low growl, upper lip peeling back.

“Loz, don’t,” I say quietly, knowing that if I don’t intervene now, there’s going to be one nasty, messy outcome.

Goggles glances at me again. “Girl, you sure you want to hook up with a dude who dresses exactly like his brothers and hangs out with them every second of every day? If you ask me, that’s pretty queer.”

Loz steps forward, growling louder, violence emanating off him in waves. I grab his arm. “No. It’s not worth it.”

“Watching him choke on his own blood will be.”

“Loz, c’mon,” I urge him, squeezing his tensed-up arm. “I don’t want to see you fight. Just let it go. Please. For me?”

That last bit seems to do the trick and though he’s brimming with rage he manages to stay where he is, clenching his hands by his sides. I know it’s killing Loz not to be able to retaliate the way he normally would if I weren’t here and I don’t like using my feminine persuasiveness on him but watching these two brawl in the corridor and bust each other up is not something I want to bear witness to. That’s not why we came down this way.

Also remembering why we’re here, Loz scowls at the other man and grits out, “Stay the fuck outta my way tonight, Turk, or else your face and my fist are gonna have a serious accident.”

The redhead just grins, amused that this hulking, angry alpha-male is being kept in line by a tiny little chick like me. I glare at him, guessing exactly what he’s thinking; all the clever insults his hyperactive brain is cooking up as we stand there.

“Don’t push your luck, Ponytail,” I warn him. “One more word from you and I’m letting this dog off his leash. Want my advice? Walk away while you still can use your legs.”

The guy squints at me, trying to decide what the hell I see in Loz over him. Giving up, he eventually shrugs. “Whatever, lady. Your loss.”

He starts loping away, digging in his jacket pocket for cigarettes.

“Yeah, go back to your big, bald boyfriend,” Loz can’t resist retorting. “He’s waiting for you at the bar.”

The kid spins around in offence, his long hair snapping like a whip and blue eyes flashing irritably. “He’s NOT my-” he starts to say but then decides it’s not even worth making a comeback so he gives a haughty little huff and stalks off, muttering something about wishing he had his EMR, yo.

“Pal of yours, Loz?” I remark with sarcasm when he’s gone.

Loz humphs. “Not friggin’ likely.”

He keeps staring intently down the hallway as if expecting the smart-mouthed punk to come back any minute and continue the verbal battle. It seems like he even hopes that will happen.

I really want to find out what that kid meant by saying Loz and his brothers ought to be out searching for their mother tonight but by the stormy look on his face I don’t even dare to bring the subject up.

Instead, I query, “What’s EMR stand for?”

Still focused on his own fury, he grunts, “Huh?”

“He said something about his EMR. Do you know what he was talking about?”

“Oh, that. It’s an Electro-magnetic Rod.” At my quizzical expression Loz sighs and explains, “It’s similar to a metal baton. Only with a charge to it.”

“Like your Dual Hound?”

He snorts contemptuously. “What he’s got is nothin’ more than a pissy little pipe. My weapon is way more powerful than his.”

“I bet it is.” I smirk. “Are you going to let me touch it? I’m sure I could figure out how to make your gun go off.”

My brazen remarks quickly make him forget about the run-in with his enemy, Loz’s slanty eyebrows rising as he turns to me in astonishment. “You still wanna?”

“Shit, yes. Don’t you?”

He nods keenly, being a guy and therefore always in the mood for sex, no matter what.

“So, what are we waiting for?” I incline my head towards the bathroom. “Let’s get in there before someone else does.”

Taking my suggestion, Loz shoves the door open with one gloved palm while walking through it, bringing me inside with him. He slides the lock shut and tests it, just to make sure it’s properly closed, muffling the loud music coming from outside. I quickly take a look around. It’s as stylish and modern as the ladies bathroom but instead of having a midnight blue colour scheme, the tiles are dark red. It is spacious, like Kadaj said, with enough space for someone in a wheelchair to freely turn around in. The basin and vanity top are set down lower for easier access, right about waist height, actually, and the toilet has added grip-bars either side of it – handy for seated sexual gymnastics, I imagine. The other notable addition is a red leather couch on the floor beside the sink. Also quite convenient. No wonder people come here to screw. It’s not so much a disabled bathroom as a cleverly disguised porn parlour. I’m surprised management hasn’t provided sachet samples of lube and flavoured body oil or installed a condom vending machine. At least that would have saved Loz the trouble of having to ask his cranky little brother for one.

“We’re not gonna do it on that, are we?” I question, glancing at the couch and wrinkling my nose even though it looks clean. “I could probably get herpes just by sitting on it.”

“Who says we have to lie down?” Loz rebounds, putting his hands on my shoulders and walking me backwards until I’m smacking into the tiled wall. He positions one of his thighs between mine, pressing his fit leather-clad form up against me.

“All righty then. Standing it is,” I murmur agreeably, lifting my face up for Loz’s hotly demanding kiss. His tongue is the more impatient one this time, infiltrating my mouth to mate with mine, affording me a preview of what’s about to happen very shortly with the more private parts of our bodies. My fingertips sneak under the edges of his jacket again, finding his hips, the smooth warmness of his skin too tempting not to touch. He does the very same thing to me, his gloveless hands creeping under my top, encircling my bare waist and then sliding up my ribs. He keeps going up until he reaches the cups of my bra, brushing the sides of my breasts with his fingers. Getting bolder by the second, he shifts his thigh further between my legs and deliberately presses it against the front of my mound, making me groan into his mouth. His thigh is hard. When I twist my lower body slightly to the side, I discover another part of him is too, my hipbone encountering a noticeable bulge beneath his belt. He groans too when I press into it. Both of us tease each other this way, pressing and kissing and groping until we have reached that feverish stage we worked ourselves into on the dance floor.

We soon have to catch our breath so we break apart for a few moments and refill our lungs, Loz gazing intently into my eyes while I stare up at his much more fascinating ones. I find it curious that his brows are silver but his lashes are black, the dark colour emphasising the brightness and luminosity of his irises, the mingled greens and blues like swirls of stained glass lit from behind with a candle, sparkling and shining and deep as the ocean. I could quite happily drown in them.

“I know I’ve already said this but wow, Loz,” I gush, “your eyes are so, so pretty.”

“No, /yours/ are,” he emphasises shyly. “They’re dark and rich, like chocolate fudge brownies.”

I can’t help smiling at that. “Do you even LIKE brownies? I thought you were a salt-lover.”

“Yeah, but I like some sweet things.” He gazes at me adoringly. “I like you.”

“Again with the romance,” I remark, pleased and impressed by his tender, sensitive side. Of course, him being romantic like that makes me want to bang his bones even harder and I start fiddling with his criss-crossed torso straps, wanting to get at his chest and see more of it than just that tantalising wedge.

“How the hell do you undo these things?” I ask, furrowing my forehead in befuddlement.

With one hand he snaps them both open. “Like that. You want me to unzip for you too?”

“I think I can handle that part on my own.” I grin and take hold of his zipper-tab, drawing it down until I get to the bottom. Unhooking it completely, I grasp the two opened edges of his biker jacket and spread them apart, past his small, flat nipples.

“Oh. My. Gods,” I breathe as I take in the stunning sight of his wide, muscular chest and rock-solid belly, which is rippled with the hardest abs I’ve ever seen. His hip-bones are indented, the sharp lines tapering down beneath his trousers, along with a bluish-green vein in his super-taut lower stomach. I’m faced with a wall of pure muscle here. Unlike a lot of other body-builders or gym-junkies, his skin is not florescent orange with fake tan but a pristine marble-white. He has no scars, no moles, not even a single freckle. He’s flawless.

“Dude. Your body is amazing.” Round-eyed with wonder, I poke his left pectoral with my fingertip, finding it just as immovable as it looks, like carved granite. “Fucking amazing.”

He glances doubtfully down at himself. “You don’t think I’m too bulky?”

Knowing that he’s talking about his slimmer brothers, I shake my head, trailing my hand over the firm plane of his extensive chest. “No way. Bulk is good.”

His torso is smooth and bare, the only patch of hair on him located way down low on his stomach, under his navel; a fine track of soft, silver fur that I want to rub my cheek on. I’d do it too, except I don’t want to kneel on the bathroom floor in case somebody has vomited, peed or ejaculated on it - all of which are entirely possible - so I settle for rubbing Loz’s enticing belly-fuzz with my hand. It’s even softer than it appears and vanishes under his belt buckle, all but begging me to follow it down. Attempting to do that, I pry my fingers into the front of his form-fitting leather pants, discovering the elastic top of his underwear and worming past that, following his fur-track southward until I reach the top of thicker, coarser curls. I can sense the male heat of him radiating from lower down but can’t touch it, can’t go any further than this as his trousers are too tight. I’m about to unfasten his belt and yank down his fly to solve that problem but he’s now got a hand around the back of my neck, trying with a very concentrated look on his face to figure out how to undo the double-tied strings of my halter-top without knotting them up even further. Since I’ve bared his chest he wants to do the same, wants to look at my uncovered skin the way I’m looking at his. Deciding to save him the dilemma of working on those fancily-looped bows with his big man-fingers, I halt his hands, saying, “How about I just do this?”

Leaving the ties alone, I grab the front of my top and lift it up around my neck, showing my tummy with its gemstone navel-ring and the lavender-coloured lingerie supporting my breasts. He gazes at the pale flesh swelling over the cups of my lace bra and I can almost see his mouth watering from here. In an attempt to make it stay out of the way of Loz’s viewing pleasure I begin scrunching and tucking the pink fabric of the halter-top up underneath itself and as I’m doing so, my hand slips and I accidentally smack Loz in the face with it.

“Shit!” I yelp, covering my mouth in horror. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He grins, showing that no harm was done. “Fine.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie,” I coo, raising my chin and kissing the spot that I whacked, halfway between his cheek and jaw. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool,” he insists.

Giggling with drunkenness, I say, “Told you I was clumsy.”

His grin goes broader, wickeder. “I don’t mind getting hit by a girl. I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can, tough guy. But beating you up is not what I had planned.”

“Oh, yeah? What DO you have planned?”

“This.” With both hands I pull my bra down so it’s sitting directly beneath my exposed breasts, framing them for Loz’s hungry gaze, my nipples turning tight in the coolness of the air-conditioned room. Since I’ve lost weight my boobs aren’t as big or full as they once were but I’ve still got more than enough to fill a man’s palm and that’s all that matters. They’re still nicely-shaped and rounded which was a pleasing result for me as I expected them to deflate like balloons after all the pounds I shed. I can tell Loz appreciates how perky they still are as he hasn’t taken his eyes off them once, staring at me the way a starving person would look at a three-tiered chocolate cake with whipped cream and cherries on top.

“You can touch them if you want. I won’t call security,” I tell him with an amused smile, taking his left hand and putting it on my corresponding breast, the warmness of his palm instantly heating my slightly chilled skin, giving me goose-bumps. He cups my female flesh, gently testing the firmness of it, his thumb brushing over my pebbled nipple and sending a spark down into my belly. I give a quiet moan and lean back against the wall, letting him look at me.

In a lust-roughened voice, he states, “You got a hot little body, babe.”

“You don’t know how great it is to hear that,” I reply gratefully. “When I was going through the stress of my marriage ending, I comfort ate and as a result, stacked on the pounds like whoa. You shoulda seen me. I was a friggin’ rhino. I’ve only just managed to lose all that poundage and that’s only because I’ve been working my butt off in the gym.” Grabbing a handful of soft flesh on my tummy, I sigh.

“I’d still like to lose a bit more, though.”

Loz shakes his head. “Don’t. You’re perfect. You got great curves.” He runs his hand down my waist, over the swell of my hip and along the fullness of my thigh. “Have you seen all those other chicks out there? They’re so skinny and flat they look like twelve year olds. Either that or they’re pumped full of plastic and silicone.”

Bringing his hand back up and palming one of my all-natural assets, he pronounces, “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only real woman in this whole club, Cate.”

I almost have a happy-gasm. “Oh, man. If I wasn’t already in here half-naked with you, Silver-tongue,” I purr seductively, “I’d so lay you for that.”

A flicker of uncertainty shows in his face. “You ARE gonna lay me, though...right?”

“Technically, you’re gonna be the one doing the laying. I’m just the layee,” I point out. “But yeah. That condom your brother gave you is totally getting used tonight.”

A slow, sexy smile makes its way across his face and the fingers of his other hand start wandering up my leg, under my skirt. When Kadaj did this back at the bar it freaked me the fuck out but with Loz I don’t get any of those eerie frightening feelings. Only exciting, good ones that make my tummy tingle and so I let him go up as far as he likes. He reaches the hip-hem of my panties and then turns inward across the top of my thigh and down, following the inside edging of my undergarment. At the point where inner thigh meets groin, his fingertips slip under the lace, touching the short, curled hairs that begin to grow there.

“Is this all right?” he asks in a whisper, pausing for a moment. I nod vigorously, not wanting him to stop now. Very delicately, he brushes over my outer folds and when I give a murmured sound of encouragement, he slips the tip of one finger down further, dipping into me. He stops again, glancing up with widened eyes.

“You...you’re /really/ wet,” he says, as if he didn’t expect it.

“Apparently, that’s what happens to a girl when she gets turned on,” I say drawlingly. “For Gods sakes, Loz. You sound as though you’ve never been with a woman before.”

I freeze with a sudden thought and stare at him. “Shit, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

He huffs in dismissal. “Course not. I’ve been with women.”

Sceptically, I enquire, “How many?”

“I dunno. A couple,” he mumbles, almost blushing at my probing question regarding his private life.

“And what, they didn’t get wet when you touched them?”

“Well, not like this.” He amazedly tests my slickness again, his fingers slipping easily through it, sliding against my swollen flesh.

“Well, that’s because they probably weren’t as horny as I am,” I quip. “Did I mention how long it’s been since I’ve done this? Doesn’t take much to get me worked up. Besides-” I cup his sizeable package with my hand and squeeze teasingly. “I’m just preparing myself for this powerful weapon of yours, big boy.”

Grinning at my flirty tone, Loz strokes me there again, dipping into my wetness.

Our fun is interrupted by somebody impatiently hammering on the door and yelling, “Hey, hurry up in there!”

Annoyance crossing his features, Loz bellows back, “Fuck off! We were here first. Do that again and I’m gonna come out there and stomp on your face, you inconsiderate prick!”

The guy doesn’t knock a second time. Funny, that.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be in here,” I say anxiously, imagining an actual disabled person having to wait for us to finish fucking before they can use their own bathroom. “What if that was somebody in a wheelchair?”

“I haven’t seen any wheelchairs in the club all night. That guy’s probably wanting to do the same thing we’re doin’.”


“Screw ‘em. They can wait,” Loz declares. “I can’t.”

The thought of someone outside waiting for us to vacate the bathroom adds to our sense of urgency and with one hand in my panties, Loz bends down and takes my nipple in his mouth, making my breath hiss in rapidly. He licks around my areola, the searing feel of his tongue on my sensitive tissue causing me to forget about anyone who might be tapping their foot in impatience at the door, or even that there is another world outside of this red room and who I’m with. All I’m aware of is Loz and how much I want this big, beautiful man. While he’s short-circuiting my brain with his fingers and mouth, I get to work on the front of his pants. I guess I don’t need a can opener to get into these tight trousers after all because once his belt is unbuckled and his zipper undone, I can stick my hand right inside them. He tenses when I touch his maleness for the first time. He’s like a steel rod covered in a layer of velvety skin; solid, warm and pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

“Whoa. You’re a lot bigger than I expected,” I comment with raised brows as I look at what I’m holding, barely able to get my fingers around his thickened length. “I don’t know if I can take all that.”

He looks terribly crestfallen until I elaborate, “Without some serious warming up first. Like I said, it’s been a while since I’ve been with a guy.”

“Me either. I mean, with a /girl/,” he hastily amends.

“If you want the sad truth, Loz, I haven’t been with anyone since my ex and that was nearly a year ago.”

At the mention of my ill-fated marriage, Loz peers at me and quizzes, “Do you got any kids?”

I shake my head. “I never wanted any. I’m glad because a divorce is hard enough without dragging children through it too.”

“If you’re not ready to be with anyone, you don’t have to do this,” he says in extreme generosity, taking my fingers out of his undershorts. “If you don’t want to I’ll understand.”

“Shut up.” I whack him on the arm and immediately regret it because, ow. Hard.

“I haven’t had sex in months. Of course I want to do it, you lunkhead.”

He removes his hand from my lacy knickers and glances at me timidly. “So, uh...How exactly do you want me to...warm you up?”

He’s already started to by stroking me with his fingers but truthfully, what I really want right now is to have him go down on me orally. In other, cruder words, I want him to eat me. However, I’m hit with an unexpected bout of shyness and I can’t say it, can’t tell him out loud that I need his head between my legs and his tongue inside me. I don’t even know if he likes doing that or will do that. Some guys don’t. I guess it can’t hurt to ask.

“Well...” I swallow and lick my lips nervously, glancing at his mouth. “If you don’t mind you could... maybe...you know...”

There’s an awkward moment of silence and then he suggests, “You want me to like, lick your pussy or something?”

“Gods, yes,” I breathe in relief, glad he’s got the guts to say it. “That’s exactly what I’d like. Thank you.”

He looks at the floor, probably wondering about its state of cleanliness as I did, and he must have decided that it’s safer if he doesn’t kneel on it to give me oral because he bends down, gets a secure hold around the back of my thighs and then straightens, lifting my feet clear off the tiles. I instinctually go to wrap my legs around his waist but he elevates me further, my back sliding against the wall as he raises me above hip-level, bringing me up to his chest, my boots dangling down under his armpits.

“Loz,” I say uneasily, clutching at his armoured shoulder-shields to balance myself. “What are you...?”

“It’s okay,” he reassures me. “Let go. I got you.”

Trusting him, I do as he says. He changes his grip and in a few efficient, effortless motions he’s hoisted me up higher and swung my legs over his shoulders so that I’m looking down at the top of his head while he’s looking at the crotch of my underwear, his face right between my thighs.

“Holy crap, you’re strong,” I gasp, never been lifted up so high in my life. Or so quickly. Good thing I’m not afraid of heights. My head is mere centimetres from the ceiling but I don’t feel scared in this position because my back is flat against the wall, my booted legs are over his squared shoulders and his hands are securely under my thighs. The way he’s holding me makes me feel quite safe and supported and I know there’s no chance he’ll let me slip.

Loz peeks up at me, eyes concerned. “You comfortable like this?”

I nod, my heart thudding with excitement. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good,” he murmurs in return, focusing back on what’s in front of his face. Loz kisses the soft inner part of my thighs and then nuzzles me through the panties I’m wearing, breathing in my scent. When he exhales I can feel his warm breath through the lavender lace and I squirm, wanting his mouth on me now. I’m thankful that Shandi made me wear a short skirt tonight because if I was wearing jeans like I originally intended this whole exercise would have been very cumbersome. As it is, all Loz has to do is pull my panties aside but as he does so, he pulls a little too hard and they rip right off me, the flimsy pastel purple fabric coming apart at the seams on my hips. He stares at the shredded underwear in his large hand, plainly unused to touching delicate, lacy garments.

“Oops,” he utters, sounding astonished. “How’d that happen?”

“Who cares?” I say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. “Toss ‘em and keep going, Macho Man.”

He shrugs and tosses the ruined panties over his shoulder. They land straight in the bin. He didn’t even look! I’m about to ask him how the hell he managed to do that but am sidetracked by the feel of him kissing me on my mons - the softly swelling mound right over my pelvic bone, his nose in amongst my brunette fluff. I hold my breath as he moves his lips down my secret valley, giving me tiny little kisses as he goes. When a prodding tongue-tip connects with my intimate flesh, I jerk my hips and curse under my breath, sinking my fingers into Loz’s hair and pulling him closer, wanting more, more, more. It’s been that long since I’ve had this done to me, I almost forgot how intensely personal it is and how intensely erotic and luscious it feels. I like being touched with fingers but there’s something about a wet, hot mouth on my own wet, hot bits that triples the pleasure, each moment of contact magnified and every nerve ultra-receptive. I believe this is about the best way a man can please a lady and Loz proceeds to do his gender proud, licking me up, down and sideways with a very agile, and might I add very lengthy, tongue. He throws in a bit of nibbling and a little bit of sucking on various parts of my girl-anatomy while I let my head drop back against the wall in eye-rolling bliss, combing through his hair as he works. The silver strands are thick and soft under my fingers and not stiff with gel like I thought they would be. His style seems to stay up in that sweeping curl all on its own, like it got blown back in the wind while Loz was roaring around on his motorcycle and decided to remain that way, disregarding the rules of physics completely. It’s so cool. The only person with hair almost cooler than this is that pony-tailed redhead Loz exchanged words with before. Despite the attitude, I gotta admit he’s cute. He’s cuter than a basket full of kittens but he’s just a cocky, wise-cracking boy and at this stage of my life I don’t need a boy. I need somebody virile and powerful, somebody who can take charge and own me, somebody who can rock my world hard and leave me spent and trembling with the strength of their desire. I need somebody who can completely satisfy me.

I need a man.

And it looks like I have one. Kadaj said he could make me weak at the knees just by using his mouth but it seems he isn’t the only one in the family with that talent. If Loz wasn’t holding me up, I would so not be able to stand right now. His probing tongue sweeps along me, investigates inside me, circles around my clit, searchingly and hungrily. When some guys do this, you can tell they’re not really into it, that they’re only doing it so you’ll let them fuck you. They do it half-heartedly and stop as soon as they can move onto something else that’s better for them. But with Loz, it’s obvious he actually really likes this, evidenced by the way he’s groaning in his throat and the enthusiasm he’s showing, the way he presses his face closer against me, pushes his tongue as far in me as he can. It’s like he wants to explore all of me, taste all of me, lick up all my juices but he can’t because the more he licks and probes and flicks, the more they keep flowing. I don’t think I’ve ever been so slippery and soaked before, my clear fluids smeared all over Loz’s lower jaw and my own inner thighs. I could orgasm within seconds but I don’t let myself go, not ready to come yet. Not this way.

I want to come with his cock in me.

“Okay. Stop,” I say in a breathless tone, tugging on the back of his hair. “I’m warmed up now.”

He shrugs my thighs off his shoulders and lets me slide back down the front of his body until my legs are circling his waist and his hips are level with mine. My back is still against the wall, the tiles cold on my skin through the thin layer of my halter-top. Loz wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, pushes my skirt up around my hips and starts to position himself.

Before he gets too carried away, I push against his belly. “Forgetting something?”

“Oh. Right,” he recalls, retrieving the hard-won condom from his pocket with one hand and tearing the packet open with his teeth.

As he’s starting to roll the sheath onto himself, I say apologetically, “I know you probably don’t like wearing them but unless you feel like celebrating Father’s Day next year, you kind of have to.”

“Yeah. It’s cool. I get it,” he replies with a one-shouldered shrug, looking down at what he’s doing. “I don’t want any brats either.”

Making sure the rubber ring at the base of the condom is securely tight on his own base, he looks back up at me, eyes glittering with sudden green flames.

“But I want /you/,” he proclaims possessively. “I’ve wanted you all damn night, Catalina.”

Hearing him say my whole name turns me on like I wouldn’t have believed. I don’t normally let anyone call me that as it sounds so old-fashioned, but hell, he can. Especially in that voice; all deep and growling like a predatory jungle-creature. He kind of looks like one too. His pupils are so contracted and thin they are nearly invisible. Most people’s pupils dilate wider when they’re sexually aroused. It appears that his go the reverse way and realising how much he burns for me makes me burn for him just as hotly.

“Want you too, Loz. All of you,” I reply urgently, my heart pounding as I spread my thighs further apart for him, letting him know that I’m ready. I’m still not sure if I can take that monster-cock in one go but I’m willing to try. Also more than willing to give it a shot, Loz wraps his hand around his own width, guiding it down between my legs until the end of him is nudging my entrance. I expect him to push right in, eager to get down to business after wasting so much time preparing me but he doesn’t. His tip slips inside easily but as he gets wider and starts to stretch me he takes it slower, rocking into me one bit at a time, allowing my intimate walls to accommodate his thick intrusion. Understanding how large he is, my body automatically wants to tense up, particularly when a dull, cramping pain begins deep in my tummy, but I inhale slow, regular breaths, keeping myself as relaxed as I can for him, knowing any discomfort I’m feeling won’t last long. As if he knows what I’m experiencing, Loz is extra-careful with me, trying very, very hard to be gentle.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, little girl,” he whispers, his tall figure shaking with the effort of restraining himself. “Please tell me if I am.”

“You’re not,” I assure him, only lying a tiny bit, biting my lip as he rocks forward again, that dull cramp sharpening. He’s the biggest dude I’ve had so far but I know that once he’s in, I’ll be fine. I probably shouldn’t have picked someone hung like a stallion to have sex with after months of abstinence but shit, I didn’t know he was gonna be this big. Usually it’s believed that guys with huge muscles aren’t huge in the groinage area but Loz tramples all over that general assumption with his formidable man-missile. When he’s three-quarters of the way there, I get him to halt by shoving on his chiselled chest.

“Just stop for a sec,” I urge. “Let me get used to you. Please.”

Nodding, he gives me as much time as I need, just standing there and supporting me, his hands around my middle. With him still partially inside me, I start swivelling my hips from side to side, much the same as one of my belly dance moves, just to try and open myself up a bit more for him. He groans when I do this and lets his head drop down to my shoulder. I tighten my legs around his waist and change the direction of my undulation, rolling my pelvis back and forth, pushing further onto him and then shallowly sliding away. It seems this second motion is too much for him to handle as he grits out some curse about his mother and then grabs my hips with both hands, keeping me still while he shoves all the way into me, right up to his wide hilt.

A sharp wave of pain rushes through me at the abrupt impalement but is immediately washed away by a much stronger wave of sparks and I jolt against him, gasping with the electrifying sensation.


Hearing that, he instantly freezes, eyes filling with panic.

“No, don’t stop,” I hurriedly say at his almost terrified look. “I meant that in a good way.”

“Are you sure? That sounded like it hurt. Did it hurt?”

“Okay, it did a little bit,” I admit, “but it’s gone now. Like I said, it’s been a /very/ long time since I’ve done this.” I glance down at the broad base of his shaft, just visible through the brown fleece between my thighs, his silver curls meshing with my much darker ones.

“Plus, you’re friggin’ gigantic.”

He lowers his gaze in guilt. “Sorry.”

“You kidding me? Don’t apologise for having a big dick. You’re every woman’s fantasy.”

“Not every woman’s,” he mumbles, clearly remembering some unpleasant experience from the past.

“Well, you’re mine. Besides, I wanted that big dick in me.” I look at where we are joined again and then smirk back up at him. “Now it is.”

Brows still knitted in worry, he asks again, “You sure it don’t hurt anymore?”


I roll my hips against his, feeling every inch of him inside me, filling me so wholly and thoroughly, the pleasurably stretched sensation of fullness causing me to moan huskily. Realising that I’m not moaning in pain, Loz withdraws and pushes back in, slowly, trembling for a different reason now. I can feel his body temperature rising rapidly, a glistening sheen of sweat beginning on his brow and in the centre of his chest.

“So tight,” he mutters, shuddering as he sinks into me again. “You’re so damn tight, babygirl...”

The way he reacts to the feel of my body is so strongly responsive, it’s like he’s not even wearing a condom at all. It’s a good thing he does have one on or he probably would have erupted the moment he first slid in and this would be over already. The latex membrane is numbing his nerves, helping him to keep command of himself and I’m sure it’s not just me who’s thankful for that. He starts to build up a rhythm, pushing in quickly, pulling out slowly; in...out, in...out – both movements delicious in the extreme, making me gasp on the in-stroke and groan on the out. I’m not worried about anyone outside the bathroom hearing us as the music the DJ is playing inside the club is loud enough to cover any sex-noises we might make in here. And I’m making plenty of them. Each stroke in that Loz gives me literally produces tingles, beginning from the bottom of my spine and rushing up through the back of my neck and into my jaw. I can penetrate myself with a vibrator at home as much as I want but it still doesn’t feel like this. Nothing feels like getting screwed by a real man with a real cock. Even though he’s being careful I can feel the strength and power behind every one of Loz’s thrusts; I can feel his muscles rippling and tensing every time he presses me into the wall. He’s not making as much noise as me but I know by the way his breath hitches and holds before escaping in a shuddery rush that he’s enjoying it the same, the sound of his pleasure almost more important than my own.

“Mmm, yeah. That’s it, honey. Make us both feel good,” I coach in a low, sex-saturated tone. Loz picks up the pace the more I encourage him, starting to fuck me faster and deeper. He’s sweating more now, clear moisture gathering into trickles that roll down his temples and seep into his sideburns, larger droplets coursing along the middle of his chest, down his abdominal section and dripping into his bellybutton. I’m getting sweaty too, feeling dampness collecting between my breasts, under my knees and on the small of my back, our escalating desire bringing our bodies up to a few degrees short of total meltdown.

My head spinning in heated intoxication, I lean forward into his opened jacket and lick along the centre of his chest just like I wanted to earlier, the tang of his sweat sharp on my tastebuds. I wonder if he likes his nipples being licked so I flick my tongue over one of the pale pink circles, discovering that yes, he does like that, if his hoarse moan is anything to go by. I lay moist, messy kisses up over his collarbones and Adam’s apple, licking and nipping at him, crazy for the feel and flavour of his smooth, salty skin. I nibble under his chin and along his jaw, our lips meeting and parting, our tongues joining together just as intimately as our hips are.

When I reach my right hand between my own thighs to touch myself, Loz glances down in surprise, his expression changing to one of anxiousness as he looks back at me.

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” I promise him. “It’s just something I have to do.”

Climaxing from thrusting alone... Not a feat I’ve ever been able to accomplish. Contrary to what women’s magazines say, I don’t have a G-spot. There’s no magic button inside there. Believe me, I’ve looked for it. THIS is my only G-spot. It works brilliantly and I can even have multiple orgasms if I keep rubbing it but my only complaint is that it’s all the way up here and not down there where the real action is. If there was such a thing as clitoris relocation surgery, I’d be booking my appointment in tomorrow.

“You feel so great and you’re doing everything right but I just can’t come if I don’t do this,” I tell Loz remorsefully. “Don’t take it personally, darlin’.”

“It’s okay,” he replies in understanding, offering hesitantly, “I can do that for you if...if you want.”

“That’d be nice. Here. Like this.” I take his hand and position it so that his palm and fingers are across my upper thigh, leaving his thumb free to do the work, much like manipulating the toggle-button on a joystick. I hiss as he accidentally applies too much pressure.

“Not so hard. It’s very, very sensitive,” I caution him, lifting his wrist. When he lightens his touch and begins circling his thumb-pad in a much gentler fashion, I let him know with a throaty moan. “Yeah. Ah, yeah...that’s perfect, baby.”

I enjoy his sensual attentiveness for a couple of minutes before I grab him by the face and yank him down to me so we can tangle tongues again. This is something I’ve never done before, and never thought I would do, but here I am being fucked against a public restroom wall by a man I only met a couple of hours ago, tasting the musk of my own feminine essence in his mouth as we are kissing. I know I’m only doing this because I’m drunk off my ass but screw modesty and manners. This is bad behaviour and I love every moment of it.

Tearing my lips away from his I moan loudly, cupping my breasts with both hands and squeezing my nipples to enhance my own arousal, Loz hazily watching me stimulate myself as he slides his huge dick into me over and over again. As I get more and more excited, my hips start to thrust against his so that he’s not just fucking me; we’re fucking each other.

“Cate, I can’t,” he soon warns me tightly. “I’m gonna...”

“Me too,” I pant, needily pulling him closer. “Rub harder now.”

His motions turn shallow as he concentrates on my impending climax, grinding his pelvis into me rather than thrusting, most of his attention focused on rubbing my clit the right way, the pad of his thumb moving in firm clockwise circles. As soon as he starts doing that, I feel all my insides heating and liquefying, the strangely weak feeling spreading down my legs and making my whole body go slack and boneless for just a few seconds, my breath caught in suspenseful stillness. Then I suddenly snap back into rigidness, my legs clamping tight around his waist and stomach stiffening as unspeakable ecstasy grips me in its vice.

“Yes,” I call out breathily, beginning to clench rhythmically around his deeply-embedded thickness. “Oh, yes... Oh, Gods. Ohhh...”

Bucking reactively against Loz, I ride out my release with eyes squeezed shut, my forehead pressed to his shoulder-armour and my fingernails digging into his arms. Thrilling throbs of sexual energy pass through me, so intense and gripping I can’t breathe, can’t think about anything except how incredible it feels; can’t utter anything else except short staccato gasps while he brings me to the longest and strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life.

Eventually, the last pulses of sensation quiver through my core and I cover his hand with my own, stopping him and gently pushing him away as I’m too sensitive to touch there now. Then I lean back against the wall, panting quietly, over-stimulated nerves twitching sporadically as my body weakens in the aftermath of climax.

Sounding unsure, he questions, “Did you...go?”

“Like firecrackers,” I reply in affirmation, lazily lifting my head off the tiles to look at him. “Did you?”

“Not yet. I wanted to make sure you went first,” he confesses. “Was it okay?”

Touched that he waited for me and put my fulfilment first before his, I curl my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a rewarding kiss.

“More than okay,” I say, murmuring against his mouth. “It was un-fucking-believable.”

“Good. Great,” he says, sounding relieved that he performed his duty as a man properly. I kiss him again and when he kisses me back I can feel the urgent insistency in it, the unreleased pressure inside him that’s about to explode like an aerosol can tossed into a campfire.

“Your turn now,” I whisper. “C’mon, biker boy.” I buck my hips against him once in enticement, making him suck in a hissing breath as he slides further into my slick snugness.

“Let me hear you come for me, Loz.”

Given permission to let go of his control he grips the back of my thighs, gives two preliminary thrusts and then slams as hard and as far in me as he can go, my relaxed state making it easy for him to do so, Loz crushing me against the wall with his bulkier build. His already hardened belly-muscles solidify to a stone-solid six-pack, his entire body tautening as he spends his pent-up tensions within me, his groaning rumbling into my ear. He groans my name, his mother’s name, the planet’s name, every word resonating with desperate pleasure. It sounds like he’s really needed this, like he hasn’t had this kind of relief for a very long time.

I hug him with both arms while he trembles against me; my new lover breathing harshly against my neck, sweat dripping from his brow onto my bare shoulder. I can feel his pulse throbbing under his skin like an electric beat, like the rave-songs that still play outside in the club. Even though it’s all over now I keep my legs locked around his waist, allowing him to stay as deep as he wants for as long as he wants; allowing him to relish our closeness and the newfound connection we have formed with our lovemaking. I let him stay inside me, to savour my warm softness and take comfort in the caring embrace of a woman, something it seems he hasn’t been given anytime recently and has missed a great deal. If it makes him feel less lonely and gives him even a little bit of happiness, I will hold him like this all night.

As Yazoo told me, I think Loz deserves it.


A/N: I hope I've proved with this chapter that Male/Female sex doesn't have to be boring and uninteresting! Your thoughts and comments are anticipated.

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