Rainy Chase (cnc)

[br****]

Rain poured through the trees, cool and relentless, soaking us both as we wandered deeper into the woods. When we reached a clearing, he stopped, eyes dark with something playful and dangerous.

“Run, little mouse.” He started counting down. I didn’t wait for zero. I bolted, laughing breathlessly as rain kissed my skin and leaves slapped against my legs. My heart pounded, half thrill, half *** of being caught. The forest closed in around me until I hit a dead end. I turned just as he stepped into view, unhurried, satisfied. He chuckled. I swung a stick at him. The next second he had me, his body solid behind mine, one arm locking me in place. His mouth brushed my ear, voice low and filthy in a way that made my defiance tremble. My pout only made him tighten his hold.

A cool edge traced the line of my throat, down over my collarbone, gliding across rain-slick skin. Not cutting. Just reminding. I shivered and let out a soft, involuntary sound. The blade disappeared. His hand didn’t. His fingers explored slowly, deliberately, sliding over my stomach and lower. When he slipped his hand into my soaked clothes, he groaned against my ear.
“So wet.” “It’s the rain,” I shot back, breathless, stubborn. I twisted free and struck him again with a branch. He caught it this time. The branch dropped. His palm landed instead, sharp and deliberate, heat blooming over my skin. My pulse spiked. He backed me against a tree, the rough bark scraping as he pressed me there, close, controlled. His belt circled my throat just enough to remind me who had won.

Buttons popped open under his impatient hands. The branch returned, not wild but measured, each strike a reminder for my defiance. I counted without meaning to. Ten.
By the time he pushed my clothes away, the rain had turned everything slick and urgent. He entered me rough at first, driving me against the tree, bark biting into my palms. I gasped, half protest, half plea, and he swallowed the sound with his mouth. Then the storm shifted. His pace softened. His hands became reverent, thumbs stroking, fingers coaxing. His forehead rested against mine, rain sliding between us as he moved slower, deeper. What started as punishment melted into something consuming and intimate. He worked me with practiced patience until my body arched, until I shattered against him, clinging to his shoulders as the forest spun and the rain kept falling.

After, he dressed me carefully, fingers lingering as he fixed my shirt, tugged my clothes back into place. He pulled me into his chest and held me there, warm despite the cold rain, steady and grounding. Then we walked back through the trees together, the hunt over, dry clothes waiting at the cars

[ay****]

Prrrrfect💚

[bo****]

Sounds like fun 😈

[An****]

Yes please

[Co****]

You write really well that's very descriptive