EM Prompt #2 – South

Goddamn you. So fucking sexy, you bastard, aren’t you? The moment I laid eyes on you my clit stood up and winked her approval. Oh yes.

And that night, that very first night….with mariachi’s playing underneath multi-coloured lights in front of a sidewalk café type setting, a two bit Mexican dive, the chile relenos were superb, and the tequila even better. I let you braille my face for the very first time. Your fingers first brushing over my cheekbones, I felt your touch like a bolt of electricity straight from where you were touching to my heart and to all points further South of the Equator. Your hands are hard, like an artist or a maestro, but the touch deceptively delicate. My Chaos Agent, you could easily strangle the life out of an adversary, and you could gun down an enemy just by what you smell on the wind. As your fingers brushed over my nose, you felt the nose pin and smile.

“Now that’s rather sexy,” you said, your lips curled and eyebrow raised just over the rim of your dark glasses, “diamond?”

“Yes,” I smiled back just as your fingers passed over the tip of my nose.

“I thought so. It’s set like one,” you said, “they always seem to have a sort of energy. It suits your face, Sweets.”

I can only murmur an “Mmm…” of thanks as your fingers then reach downward over my lips. I cannot stop myself from brushing your fingers and the side of your hands with them. Goddamn it! I can’t quell the desire in my belly that uncoils itself whenever I am around you. It must have been that movement or maybe it was the ragged intake of breath that gives me away. All I can think of now is about how quickly we can pay the check, and get the hell out of here and back to your house, alone and away from everyone else. We need to just sate that incredible desire to tear into each other and quickly, I think, or I know that I am going to go mad. But you draw it out, you aren’t ready to go yet, and the place is nearly empty anyway. Fuck it. The mariachis have seen this sort of thing before.

Your hands are beneath my hair, pulling the long waves through your fingers. Then those long fingers are on the back of my neck pulling me toward you. How does a blind man know? How does he know exactly that pulse point on the front of a woman’s throat and where to place his lips and tongue there with such precision that bolts of electricity course through her whole body? Somehow your mouth is on my jaw, the edge of my mouth, each point, of contact eliciting a gasp from me, and then it finds mine, You taste like that very good tequila and the sweet cigarillos that you smoke and my brain is bursting into flame. All I can think about are my hands that are on your thighs, fingers inching toward your cock and wanting to satisfy the deep thrum that is growing in my belly as your hands are inching up my thigh, over the black fishnet stockings and just under the edge of my leather skirt.

“I think we need to get out of here,” you smile against my lips,”otherwise we are going to be the talk of the town, babe.”

You’re right of course. There’s nothing worse than being the wanton grist for the gossip mill in a small shit-heel town in the middle of Mexico. Besides, you live here, and I am just the gringa in the village who is working on a paper on herbs, visiting from the States. I never expected any of this, and I definitely never expected you, Sands. But here you are and here I am debating whether or not to just tell my attorney to sell my house and my stuff and send the proceeds down here. Mexico is magical and I never have to worry about the Feds taking too much interest in what the Indios do in order to see God. But then I am thinking to myself that I have recently laid eyes on a blind God who makes me forget what the hell it is I am supposed to be doing down here in the first place.

We pay the check in a rush, throwing a wad of bills on the table, and you take my arm and indicate the door. I lead and you follow. Somehow the opposite nature of the arrangement only adds to the moment. By now the bartender is staring at us and the Mariachi playing the guitar gives me a wink. Somehow in the dizziness that I feel I manage to walk out the door. My fingers brush your thigh and you grab my hand and place it over your cock, I can feel your tumescence pushing against the fabric of your jeans. Your hands are stroking my face and then over my sides and breasts. This time I break it off.

“Baby….” I whisper against your earlobe, licking the rim and teasing it with my tongue, “not here.”

You grin at me again and we resume our trek through the narrow streets and are making our way down the alleyway toward your house. But suddenly you stop us again.

I almost am wanting to ask you what’s the matter. It’s already dark. But before I can speak you spin me around and kiss me again, harder this time. You still taste like sweet cigarillos and very good tequila. I answer your kisses with my own, and somewhere in a secluded corner of a back alley, you press me back against the wall. Instinctively I wrap my arms around your neck, my thighs around your hips. There’s just enough space between the walls of the alleyway that I can brace my back against one wall my feet against the other. You give me that wicked smile of yours, and I feel your cock through your jeans, pressing against my mons through my thong.

Goddamn you!

I am wet and on fire for you just like you knew I would be. Maybe it’s that boyish have smile behind the sunglasses you wear even at night. No matter what you always look cool, and maybe that is why I find you so goddamned irresistible. With a low throaty growl or maybe it is a chuckle, your fingers push aside the thong, and stroke against my nether lips. Your smile takes on almost a smirk .

With a snap, my thong is history, lying on the alleyway next to your boot, I don’t care, I never liked the damned thing anyway.. My fingers are unbuttoning your shirt, and in spite of my wanting to simply tear the buttons away, I don’t. My hands are trembling as you push into me..But you know what you are doing. You make me arch my back from the wall, tilting my hips even more until at last you are rewarded with a sharp gasp. ,Before I can say another word you bite my words off with another kiss, your tongue thrust into my mouth, and I suck your breath into my lungs. You are a fire breathing dragon, somehow never quite fully human, but damned if I even care at this point. We move together, slow, grinding, wanting to speed through this moment, but loving the sharp ache, the pain of making it last. The heat of the sun still radiates off the stucco buildings that we are wedged between.

And at the end of it all, as everything just begins to ebb, our mouths are locked in hot, heavy and long slow, open-mouthed kisses. Neither one of us are giving one goddamn about anything but that and being in this moment. All consciousness is focused to the South of either of our individual equators.

Muse: Fanny Fae
Fandom: Original Character
Word Count: 1323
crossposted to


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2 responses to “EM Prompt #2 – South

  1. If you (either or) have time I’d like to talk to you about T_M briefly.

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