Three days since the fight with Griffith. Three days since he’d said, “ja ne", hoisted his bag and left for some unknown destination. Three days since she’d heard her voice call his name – not in anger – but calling him, calling him to stay.
He almost had.
How would it be if she were here, Guts wondered. How would she look, how would she feel?
It can’t hurt her just to dream, right.
Let’s see, he thinks. A big deserted plain would be nice. Like this one. Quiet. Dark. A good fire going. Bright...how her breasts would look in the firelight, how it would dance in her eyes. The great stars above.
How she’d smile at him and pull him down for a kiss. How he’d lay his body alongside hers, trying not to crush her. Pulling her in, gentle but strong, making her shiver. How she’d moan into his mouth and roll her hips forward, trying to ease the heat building low inside her. How his own pulse would pick up, his heart begin to beat in his ears when he heard her, felt her.
What would he do? Roll her on top, making her groan in frustration and give him that sharp look he’d come to love more than hate. Ready to take her own, make him give her what she wanted. He’d give her all that and more, he promised himself. All of him.
Before she can decide what to do, he picks her up wholesale and deposits her sweet, pink slit on his mouth. She gasps in astonishment, her head vaulting back and her spine straightening, throwing her firm breasts out so they jiggle above him. Guts smiles into her clit, buries his face and reaches up to flick a nipple. Casca loses the power of speech for a moment. When it comes back, it’s only to whisper out, “Guts…if you don’t...I can’t...ahh,” and she rocks half-unwillingly on his tongue.
That’s good, Guts thinks, but I can do more. Take my sassy commander down a peg. Let her really feel it. Let her forget everything, everything else, everything but me. Only me...and he slips a hand under one ass cheek, lifting her and spreading her all at once, and before she can respond there’s a thick finger from his other hand sliding inside, so easy, hot and smooth, and damn if that isn't going to feel great on his dick in a hot minute.
His dick, which fully appreciates the feast laid out before him and is pulsing, throbbing with anxious desire, wanting to be inside and taking, now, now…
But finger-fucking Casca is just fine with him, because she looks better than anything he’s ever seen, straddling his mouth like a dark goddess, his victorious queen, and all he wants is to take her apart, hot and right and real. He uses the hand under her ass to bounce her up and down, smooth and steady, and all she can do is lean back more, and choke and moan and make these really unladylike grunts and groans, just knowing that Guts is smiling like a moron while she goes to pieces, and not being able to get angry or even care, not while those fingers are stretching her and fitting inside just exactly where she needs them, their curves pressing up and in with every agonizing drop down onto them, and he’s sucking and licking like he’s starving and she’s the only food for miles, and it feels so damn good...
One of her hands delicately balances her weight on his stone-hard shoulder; the other unconsciously flies up to her mouth and she moans into it, flexing her hips above Guts’ questing lips, trying to stifle her noises by biting into the muscle of her thumb. Guts puts an end to that right away.
“Stop that.” He pulls away for a second and takes the opportunity to tease her soaked clit with his thumb. “You sound good.” Casca rolls her eyes, but takes her hand away and looks down. Around his mouth is smeared and slick. Guts never thinks about anyone but himself, right? Just like Griffith...yet here he is, his eyes burning darkly as his thumb works her over, every pass making a hot flame sear up her back. “Guts…” she catches her breath as his tongue flicks out to gather more of her nectar. She is absolutely dripping, he thinks. “I didn’t think you’d be like this.”
He manages to shrug while suspending most of her weight on one hand. “Guess even the great commander Casca can be wrong, then.”
That provokes a flash of anger, but it only heightens her arousal. “Well then, Captain Guts,” she says archly, “prove to me how wrong I’ve been about you,” and she reaches down and spreads herself for him.
Guts has never been one to let an opportunity for attack pass, and he plunges his face back into her folds, his clit hand, now wet and sticky, tracing back up her torso to find that neglected nipple, tweaking and pulling at it until she sighs a long “ahhh” and settles down onto him. Her own hand snakes up to play with her hair as she moves on him and Guts grins again. He pulls back just a bit, gives her clit a good, hard suck and a scrape of his teeth, getting a satisfying “hghh” and a good solid face-hump for his troubles.
“Show me what you need,” he rumbles low, almost, but not quite, touching her.
“Ahhh…” Her head falls back again, and as he goes back to his pattern of long, slow licks and deep, probing kisses she takes his hand, using to cup and knead her breast, stopping to play just around the nipple. He grunts into her, satisfied he’s got it, and her hand glances back down his arm, dipping into the hollows between the muscles and stroking over their bulges. She looks down worshipfully on her new creator, the one who’s bringing her these exquisite and strange sensations, and she rides him softly as the need inside her builds and builds until it’s almost a pain and she needs, needs him to release it.
“Guts,” she whispers, and slides her other hand down to just above his mouth, fingers playing over her slick clit, and it’s almost more than she can take, just touching herself. Guts’ eyes widen and he “hmphs” his approval right into her, one thumb sliding back in to play around her entrance. Casca looks up, unfocused at the wheeling stars, and with one hand gripping his on her breast and the other sliding in the vee of her sex, she breathes in and in and in until she’s ready to explode
and then she does, and when she comes it’s with a helpless shriek and she rides him hard, hard, white light expanding from deep inside her and she’d swear it was coming out of her pores, her eyeballs, the shaking shock of her orgasm brightening along her spine and she can’t see, can’t breathe, can only feel the shuddering pleasure seeping into every corner of her body, blowing aside everything else in its wake.
Guts lifts her up and flips her over onto her back with a “whumpf” against the scratchy wool blankets, and grins a mischievous grin. His mouth goes back down into that slick pink heat for a second and then he moves back, slides in two fingers and starts to fuck her hard and fast.
Casca makes a noise that is simultaneously loud, surprised, and undignified as he breaks up a truly stupendous afterglow. Before she knows what she’s doing her hips jerk up and away from his hand and she makes a good effort at kicking him in the face, before he catches her foot and kisses her on the inside of her ankle in a way that’s really, really distracting.
“What’s wrong? Don’t like that?” he teases. He pulls out his fingers and licks them, long and slow, while his other hand has moved her leg up onto his shoulder and his strong thumb is drawing circles under her knee, encouraging her to hook it over his back. “Guess you’ll have to teach me better, then.”
Casca catches his wet hand back down and bites it, seeking out the flavor he’s been lapping up this whole time. Sweet and salty, and something else...She noses deeper between his fingers. Something else. Addictive. She can see why he likes it.
He smiles big and wolfish. “Good, isn’t it,” he drawls. Casca’s still too strung out to respond so she just cleans him up more, sliding her tongue around the grooves of his fingernails to catch the last of that quickly-fading taste.
Guts chuckles and lowers his head to bite along the inside of her thigh. “Does the Commander have any criticism to offer? Some say you’re hard to please.”
Casca releases his fingers and tugs them to stroke around her belly button. “Hmm...the only thing I can think of is…” She nudges herself closer, to open her thighs around him. “Don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sister,” he responds, and dips his shaggy black head down to meet hers as he pulls her ass towards his lap.
“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” she says, in what she hopes is a seductive voice, scooting her hips around him teasingly as her fingers trip up one thick white thigh.
“Yeah, no,” Guts responds. “You good?”
“Hmph. Your loss,” she says, but she’s smiling wide. “Yeah. Give it to me.”
Guts doesn’t need to be asked twice.
It’s a good thing she’s relaxed, because his dick is long and wide and hard and stretches her so far she gasps and puts her hands on his hips to slow him down. But she’s given him the go-ahead, so she can’t really, not really, complain when he pushes right on in, and when he’s fully seated she sighs with pleasure and lets herself melt around him, her insides reconfiguring to accommodate this sudden intrusion.
Guts pauses, just for a moment, drinking her in. Her body is sweaty, outlined and gleaming with starlight, every muscle and bone edged in silver. The shadows and highlights change as her chest heaves. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears and shoulders are dark with a deep flush, and her eyes are huge and shining in the frame of sweat-damp hair that clings to her face. Her wet, full lips part, and he can just see the tips of her sharp white teeth as she sucks down lungfuls of the sweet and clean air. She’s so pretty, he thinks.
Although she’s still a hell of a bitch if you get in her way, his brain adds.
And then that’s that, thinky time over, and he drives deeper just for luck before pulling most of the way back out. He saws back and forth a bit while distracting her with bites and nibbles on the leg next to his face, then drives in hard again. She breathes out in a huff, her face half pleading and half satisfaction. She uses her legs to pull him in closer and feels rather gratified when his eyes blink and go blank for half a second. Then he glares down at her and starts fucking her for real, each forward thrust lifting her half off the blanket and each release a slow, intentional slide back. She’s got no need to slow him down, now. In fact, her own need, her own burn is picking back up, and she tries to push hard into him, get that massive length where she needs it…
One hand on her stomach is all it takes to effectively immobilize her, and she moans in frustration, tries to move around underneath it, twist her hips to beguile him into screwing her harder.
But Guts isn’t having any of it, and he just slides his other hand down to her hip so that he’s completely in control of her body, slipping in and out like a machine, each withdrawal so long and torturous, each stroke in short and fast and angry, until she’s being pulled apart at each one. Tears start in her eyes, she wants it so badly, the liquid heat inside her building higher and hotter than ever before. “Come on, you idiot, just...come on,” she says, trying desperately to get him to give her what she wants.
Guts quirks a thick eyebrow. “’You idiot’?” He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve met the guy.” Casca opens her mouth to retort, but that’s when he changes the beat, slamming deep and then lingering, enjoying the feeling of her trying to hold him there when he pulls partway out. “Wonder who it could be.” He keeps it up, long, slow, delicious, until finally the begging in her beautiful eyes is too much and he pulls her up onto his lap, still with her leg slung up over his shoulder. “You did want more, right?” Her eyes fly wide and she’s really about to say something this time, but he pulls her close and covers her lips with his, and the poor thing can’t protest, can’t even kiss him properly, only moan and tangle her tongue with his in the hot mess of their mouths.
And then Guts lifts her bodily into the air with his hips alone, and lets her fall down full onto the splitting girth of his cock, and her eyes stare into his as she screams into his mouth.
She disengages, twists her face violently away to look him straight in the eye. “Guts, what the – AH” she cries out, as he jerks his hips again and lets her full weight land on him, ramming him home even further. She lifts a hand to stifle her scream this time and he snakes his hand out faster than she even can see, pinning her arm to her side. “No,” he says, low and even, his face set. “You just feel. You sit and ride.” He gives a sudden sly smile, pulls her face close and bites along her bottom lip. “You know how to ride, don’t you?” And now he starts to snap his hips up and down, bouncing her mercilessly on his cock, as she squeals and shakes and shivers, and he’s got one hand holding hers to his shoulder, and one pressing her other hand down onto the fold between her hip and thigh, helping her to move up and down with him. And he’s right, all Casca can do is feel and ride it out, and after he drives into her two or three more times she’s coming again, or maybe she never stopped, she doesn’t know anything anymore, and Guts is God, taking her to heaven and back with every thrust and there are tears in her eyes and she’s looking at him like he might be her savior or else a devil, and Guts feel like he can do this forever, can hold off forever, just watch her lose it around him every time he fucks into her.
But he’s actually wrong this time, very wrong, because he lasts about three more strokes before the veins on his neck stand out and his eyes open wide, and his hands scrabble around her legs for two more long, deliberate, heavy bucks, and then it’s his turn to lean back, forcing her down onto him as he pumps and releases inside her, so much that there’s no more room for it and it dribbles out thick between them, leaving them both even more wet and messy than before.
His body is suddenly boneless and he flops onto his back, straightening his legs behind her and pulling her down to rest on his broad, slick chest.
Casca peers at him from behind her piece-y bangs. “That was amazing,” she comments. Then she grins evilly. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Now it’s Guts’ turn to roll his eyes. “Shut up. I fucked you good and you know it.” She lifts her eyebrows but has to smile her assent. He rolls her off next to him and pulls the rough blanket around them both. “Now go to sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
That’s my line, Casca thinks sleepily. But before she can say anything, it’s the huge warm weight of his body against her, and the breeze blowing cool on her face, and her own deep lassitude pulling her down into sleep. Safe at last in his arms.
Guts lasts only a few seconds longer than she does. He looks over her dark, damp head, past the stretching grasslands, to the streak of dark forest and pale mountains, far away. Then he glances up at the sky.
“Thanks,” he says gruffly, to anyone who might be listening. Then he follows Casca, deep into silent dreams.