Demanding

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Lys ap Adin

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://alltrees.org/archive/).

Published on 2010-02-06 17:31:51.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on May 16, 2012 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Demanding

What Xanxus wants, Xanxus gets. Smut like nobody's business. For Porn Battle IX, prompt: Xanxus/Squalo, genderswap, boots. Girl!Xanxus, alternate canon.

Xanxus has legs that just don't quit, and she dresses to kill more literally than most women do. When they're on a mission, it's all boots to the knee and sleek leather pants that hug the muscles of her thighs and the curve of her ass and hips. There's a lot to be said for that, but even more to be said for what passes for her business attire, since she's perfectly willing to trade the leather pants for skirts that are short enough to be practically indecent when she crosses her legs and they creep up her thighs. Squalo's pretty fond of those skirts, actually, especially when Xanxus crooks a finger at him and says, "Come here," as she uncrosses her legs and spreads her knees wide.

He does, and drops to his knees for her. What Xanxus wants, Xanxus gets, and that's just fine by Squalo, who jumps to obey his boss's every whim. Most people suppose that it's because Xanxus is the dictionary definition of volatile. Fewer people suspect the truth, and Xanxus herself is not one of them. Squalo doesn't mind that; he's her man every way it matters and a few it doesn't. As long as she allows that, he's good.

Xanxus isn't much for the things other women like, foreplay and kisses and soft fluffy shit like that, so Squalo doesn't bother much with the preliminaries. When he sets his hands on Xanxus' knees and slides them up her thighs, feeling the power in the solid muscles under creamy skin as he rucks her skirt up, it's more for him than for her. Xanxus raises her hips when he hooks his fingers in her panties and draws them down, and makes an impatient sound as he takes his time about it. Squalo doesn't mind that, or the hand that descends onto his head, gripping his hair and urging him forward. Squalo goes willingly, burying his face between her thighs as she spreads her knees wider. He breathes in the damp, musky scent of her, and she tightens her fingers in his hair, growling at him, voice gone husky with demand. Squalo runs his hands up her thighs to lift her hips and leans forward to taste her, tongue sliding against the slick folds of her cunt and stroking against her clit.

Xanxus' growl changes to something like a moan as she rocks up against his mouth as Squalo laps at her. She's already wet, must have been thinking about this for a while before she put down the file she'd been reading and beckoned him over, and she makes a half-gasping sound when he slides his fingers up into her. He fucks her on them as he mouths her, tongue flicking against her fast, the way she likes it. She's tight around his fingers, muscles already fluttering as he strokes them against her, three of them twisting and curling inside her. It's no surprise to him when she comes off fast, shuddering and bucking against his mouth with a breathy little groan that sets Squalo's cock throbbing in his pants.

She's got him trained well; some women want to have a moment after they come, but Xanxus isn't that type. More is never enough for her, so Squalo keeps his mouth on her, tongue moving against her, sliding against her clit and between the folds around his fingers. He works her until his jaw aches, while Xanxus gasps above him, head thrown back against her chair, sooty lashes fluttering over her eyes as she grips Squalo's hair and the arm of the chair, white-knuckled.

Just when Squalo thinks he'll die if he doesn't get off soon, Xanxus pushes him away from her and plants one booted foot on his chest, pushing him over. He lands flat on his back and stays there while she stands and strips out of her blouse and that skirt. "Well?" she says, standing over him and wearing nothing but those boots and a challenge in her eyes.

That's his cue to undo his pants, fucking finally, and he can't help groaning in relief as he does, shoving them and his underwear down his hips. Xanxus wrenches his shirt open herself as she kneels astride his hips, so close to his cock that he can feel the heat of her. She rakes her fingernails down his chest, casual as a cat sharpening her claws, and Squalo grunts at the sting of it. He doesn't let that stop him from raising his hands and palming the lushness of her breasts. Xanxus arches into his hands as he plays with them, the only thing truly soft about her, and rocks over him, frustratingly close, until Squalo can't stand it any more and moans, "Boss, please..."

That's what it takes to get her to reach down and take him in hand, calloused palm wrapping around his cock and guiding it into her. Squalo groans at the slick heat of her body as she settles over him, one sure swift movement that nearly drives him out of his head. Xanxus plants a hand on his chest, pinning him down and balancing herself as she rides him, hips rocking over his, fast and hard. She does this for herself; it's Squalo's job to brace her, one hand on the curve of her back and the other free to fondle her breasts. He bites his lip as he does, trying to hold out against the scorching heat of her body and the way she looks as she takes her pleasure from him. Xanxus scowls as she drives herself down against his cock, as single-minded for this as she is for everything else, until she hisses at him to touch her. Squalo slides his hand down from her breast to the tautness of her stomach and then presses them against her clit, stroking hard, and that sends her off again. She groans as she comes, arching over him, wild hair damp at the temples and her chest heaving as her muscles ripple around Squalo's cock.

She's the most beautiful damn thing Squalo's ever seen, especially when he drives his hips up against hers and she gasps as each ragged thrust wrings another spasm of pleasure out of her. Squalo groans, watching her, feeling the gathering pressure of his orgasm building, and finally she looks down at him. It's the satisfaction in her eyes as she surveys him and the possessive quirk of her lips that undoes him. Another groan rips itself out of his throat as his hips buck under hers and pleasure comes crashing down on him like a tidal wave, rolling through him relentless and fierce.

When it finally lets him go, he's as limp as a jellyfish washed up on the tide, and can only pant for breath as he stares up at her. But Xanxus doesn't really care much for the afterglow and climbs off him, stretching shamelessly, with only the faintest of wobbles in her knees. Squalo pretends not to notice that, though he does take a certain workmanlike satisfaction from seeing that she's not as unaffected as she thinks she is.

Then Xanxus kicks him in the ribs. "You gonna lie there all day?"

"No, Boss," Squalo says, with a wheeze, and rolls to his feet to get them some towels to clean up with. He's just chivalrous like that, and besides, Xanxus is perfectly capable of lounging at her desk mostly naked if he doesn't.

And while Squalo really wouldn't mind that at all, it'd be hell on his productivity.

- end -