#hanuk kink

[christinescupofcoffee]

Kinkmas | day vii.

“in praise of bacchus” (as the seasons grey ‘verse)

The wine was fresh from the big glass bottle straight out of Paso Robles as Alex poured himself and Christine a glass each. The fragrance of the fermented grapes tickled her nose with utmost temptation: the mere aroma of the California coast in the autumn was enough to seduce her without even trying too hard. Christine straightened her back and licked her lips as if she was about to kiss him, or at least tempt him with the way that her top hugged her breasts and showed off her chest to him.

Alex hooded his eyes as he brought the glass up to his lips for a sip. All the while, he never took his gaze off of her, his gaze from behind those glasses. It was the last show of the year, and the night before Hanukkah would start, and thus, she could tell that he was in a mood for trouble.

The whole mood of the room made her think of melted dark chocolate, and more so when Alex sloughed off a slice of the fresh challah bread on the table before them for her.

“Thank you, baby,” she told him as she schmeared some butter on the surface. She closed her eyes and took a bite.

“What do you think?” he asked her in a soft voice.

“Soft and warm,” she remarked with her mouth full, and then she swallowed. “Just like you.”

Alex sipped on his dark maroon wine some more, and then he took a slice for himself, also covered in butter. Christine knew that the butter and the bread would help with the kiss of the wine, but knowing how indulgent he liked to be, she figured that he wouldn’t last long. Indeed, he poured himself another glass full, but he gave her another slice of bread with butter on top instead. Two glasses deep and she could see it on his face already, with the way that his face bloomed with a tender warmth, like the little Jewish boy at Hanukkah awaiting his next piece of dark chocolate rugelach.

He hiccuped when he finally took another slice of challah for himself, but at that point, he could scarcely keep the serrated knife steady over the braided domes of the loaf.

“Are you drunk?” she giggled at him.

“Maybe,” he replied as his eyes drooped closed a bit. He stifled a hiccup and showed her a sweet little smile. Without hesitating for a second, Christine leaned into the side of his neck for a gentle kiss.

“Let me get that for you, baby,” she whispered into his ear. She took the knife and sliced a thick piece of challah bread from the loaf, and she held it before her face so he could either see the bread, her hooded eyes, or her breasts.

“Oh, my,” he breathed out, and he cracked her a little smile as he took the slice for himself. He locked eyes with her for a moment, and then he took a bite out of the slice.

“You know, you get really cute when you’re buzzed,” she remarked.

“Cute as a bug’s ear,” he sputtered, and then he chuckled again. Slowly, she ran her hand up his thigh, and she knew that he could feel her hand through the denim of his otherwise snug jeans. Her fingers graced the fullest part of his belly as it spilled over his belt, and thus, she kept going with the loving caress up onto his belly, just to feel his softness a little bit more. To feel the depth of his chest and the snug warmth that came on the back of the wine glass.

Christine leaned into the side of his head, at which she smelled both his soft, soapy cologne as well as the wine on his lips.

“Let me kiss you,” she breathed into his ear.

“Kiss me where?” he stammered.

“You know exactly where.” She wriggled her fingers as she moved her hand back down from his chest again. She moved her hand all the way down to his belt. Alex did not fight it in the least as she undid it for him, and ultimately for herself and her own tongue. He leaned back for her, wine glass still in hand, as she opened up his pants.

She revealed his flesh for herself: the wine had made his heart pound, and thus, he was already growing firm and taut. She licked her lips and brought them down to his tip. He stretched out his left leg against the back of the couch to give her some room.

Christine moved her head in closer to his body, and all the while, she lifted her gaze for a look into his face and those wire-rimmed glasses; he tasted so good. She did not remember him tasting so good, as if he had skin of sugar and cinnamon. His skin, though quickly tightening up from the feeling, was soft and pillowy, as if she was tasting her own sufganiyot.

Alex never moved his gaze from her, either: with a lick of his lips and another quick sip of his wine, he looked as though he could take it all night long.

Christine moved in as close as she could on him. She nearly gagged when his tip reached the back of her tongue, but she moved back before she even could do so.

Alex let out a low whistle and ran his fingers through his inky black hair. Christine moved back in closer to his body again, and that time, she ran the edges of her teeth along his tightening skin. He let out a soft gasp, followed by a low whisper of a moan. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side as he relished in the feeling.

Another scrape of her teeth, and he let out a low whistle.

“Oh…” he breathed out, and she knew he was ready to blow soon enough.

Another scrape and she could taste a pearl on the pad of her tongue. She swallowed, and then she moved her mouth away from his wet dick. But then she followed it up with a lift of his shirt and a soft kiss on his belly.

“Ooh. That felt better than the blowie.” He hiccuped and chuckled again, and she gave him another kiss on the lips, that time with her hands on his chest.

“Happy Hanukkah, baby,” she whispered into his lips.

“Sameach Hanukkah, Christine Sixteen,” he whispered back to her. “Care for some more bread?”

“Please,” she whispered as she ran her fingers through his hair.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

“the coil”

“death by chocolate”

“the lurking boy”

“so long, sderot”

“scar tissue”

“the deepest kiss”

“rock salt”

“the shadow of lust”

midnight oil, 8 nights of kink, penned by a shiksa gentile

[christinescupofcoffee]

Kinkmas | day vi.

“silver and cold” (as the seasons grey ‘verse)

It was the last night before the first night of Hanukkah, and Christine couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. She and Alex had gone backstage at the Iridium with some wine and a blindfold that she had bought at the new little shop right down the street from her: she never thought that it would be that much of a place when it had opened its doors, but upon walking past the front window, she took a glimpse into the blacked out windows which in turn piqued her curiosity.

The shiny black box, the one with the red trimming around the edges, perched on the counter caught her eye, and more so when she lifted the lid for a peek at the contents inside of there. However, she could not merely pick out one thing from the inside of the box, and she was asked to take the entire thing with her.

An early Christmas and Hanukkah gift to herself as well as to Alex.

Christine kept the box on her nightstand, right next to the base of her lamp, and even with the one thing inside of there that caught her attention in the first place. The other three things in there brought a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, to the point she had to gather the courage to even look at them.

The first thing, however, made her think of all the times that she and Alex had climbed into bed together and he kept his glasses on. There was something about being in bed with her professor, and something about it that made him seem all the more unscrewed.

She held the cloth to her chest, right up against her breasts, as she thought about him standing before the podium in the classroom: his hands on the edge of the wood and those glasses shimmering bright. Even with the protective glass, she could still see the twinkle in his eye, that little glimmer of mischief that told her he wanted it and he wanted it so bad.

Christine held the cloth in between her fingers and she fingered the lace around the edges of it. Black silk with fine dark red lace, as dark red as the richest of wines. She held it up to her face to imitate covering herself up, just to gather a taste of it. She knew that she would have to bring it along with her once she saw him again for the first night of Hanukkah that next evening.

There had to be a way to plan it out, but with Alex, anything could happen. The sky was the absolute limit with him. But she wanted him to keep those glasses on once he lit up the shamash and that first candle.

She tucked the cloth into the pocket of her long green jacket, and the next day, she wrapped the jacket around her body to protect against the bitter New York cold. 

The snow beckoned with each and every step away from the bus stop outside of his apartment building and up to his front step. The darkness of winter fell over her as she walked up the sidewalk; she was in search of the window with the little blue candles on the sill, and she found it. His apartment seemed warm and dry; she strode up the steps and gently knocked on the door panel before her face.

She waited for a moment, and then the front door opened wide before her. She was greeted by the scent of his soapy, peppery cologne as well as the obvious aroma of chocolate behind him.

“Hey, there’s my girl,” Alex greeted her with a lopsided little grin and a run of his fingers through his wet hair, which made him resemble to a merman. His belly had grown soft and round enough to make his black shirttail hang out, the roundest she had ever seen him before; Christine bowed inside, shut the door behind her, and put her arms around him to feel his softness, to which he followed suit with one hand on her shoulder blade, and his other hand on the small of her back.

“Oh, god, I’ve missed holding you,” she confessed to him. She lifted herself up on her toes and gently kissed the smooth side of his neck.

“Yeah, well, I’ve missed your kisses,” he retorted. “Your kisses in all of their tenderness and warmth. The kind of warmth that only comes with Hanukkah, after all.”

“Did you light the candles yet?” she asked him with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Oh, no, I was waiting for you,” he told her with another run of his hand down the small of her back to the waist of her coat and her jeans. Christine responded by slowly running her hand down his chest onto his belly: his shirt was black velvet as well, and she couldn’t stop touching him there.

“Oh, you’re just so right,” she told him in a soft, silken voice.

“I feel healthy, though,” he confessed to her with another run of his fingers through his hair, that time a slower, more thoughtful run of his fingers, and she could see it. She could see it in those steely eyes from behind those glasses. She showed him a sweet little smile, to which she then closed her eyes and took in a whiff of the smells of his apartment, from the fact that he had just vacuumed his couch to the chocolate aroma from the kitchen.

“What’s cooking?” she asked him.

“Homemade hot cocoa,” he replied. “I was just about to take the whipped cream and the cinnamon out when you came a-knockin’ on the door.” Christine noticed the light titanium menorah perched upon the lid of the baby piano tucked on the left side of the room, and next to the base stood a small box filled with matches. She then ran her hand down the front of his shirt, which she soon realized was crushed velvet.

Alex guided her over to the couch for a seat and perhaps a round of the hot cocoa. But she kept her hand on his chest all the while: such softness and warmth to escape from the bitter cold.

“I had a feeling you’d like this shirt,” he said to her in a soft voice.

“It’s like I’m touching the belly of a puppy,” she confessed. “I mean, it’s just… it’s so sweet.” She put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. He was warm and welcoming, like the one candle on the first night, far and away from the cold. Their mugs of cocoa wafted off steam even with the dollops of cream and dusting of cinnamon on top, but his warmth gave her enough sweetness for an evening.

The flickering little flames from the two candles on the menorah danced about and cast their shadows over the smooth wooden lid and face of the piano. The snow came down outside of his window. The only thing missing was either of their parents.

“I love this,” she said in a low voice.

“I never want this to go away,” he added in a near whisper, and he ran his fingertips up her arm to the crest of her shoulder.

She reached up and cupped her hands on either side of his face.

“Touch me,” he whispered to her; his eyes were as steely and deep as ever. “Touch me like you mean it, my Strawberry Girl.”

Christine brought her lips to his, and she could already taste the cinnamon on him. That, with the velvet under her fingers was complete and utter euphoria. The taste of cinnamon with the taste of decadence and sin.

It was right then Christine remembered that she still had her jacket on. The pockets of her jacket!

She held back from his face and gazed into those eyes behind the glasses. She still had her hands cupped on either side of his face.

“I have something for you,” she whispered to him, and he very slowly raised his eyebrows at her.

“A little Hanukkah gift, eh?”

With her straddling his lap, she reached into her jacket pocket for the black cloth. The glasses slid down the bridge of his nose a little bit so she could see it in his eyes.

“What’s this?”

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip and hooded her eyes at him.

“You… tie it around your head,” she led him into it.

“I have an idea,” he quipped right then.

“Do you now? Is it anything like the idea I have in my head right now?”

“Maybe.” Christine licked her lips and slid off his lap to give him some space. Alex stood up to his feet, but then he gestured for her to follow him over to the plastic but cozy-looking chair right next to the piano and the menorah.

“Allow me,” he coaxed her, and he held the chair for her. Christine took her seat there before him, and she glanced up at him as he rounded the side of the chair. He tucked his thumbs into his belt loops once he stood before her. She kept the blindfold in hand, to which she lightly fingered the smooth fabric with the pads of her thumbs.

She thought about it, and she thought about it as she raised her gaze from the fabric to him and the little smile on his face. If only she could read his mind.

There was a moment in which she did—

“Would you like for me to put it on or—” Before she could slip another word in, Alex used two fingers to take the fabric from her hand. She held the blindfold before his face and tied it around his eyes. She watched him tie it snug at the back of his head. The black silk shimmered under the amber lights on the other side of the room, and a few stray hairs stood up from the gray streak like silver threads.

“How is this going to work?” she asked him with a slight chuckle.

“Simple.” Like clockwork, Alex sank down to his knees before her and rested his long, lanky hands on his knees. His full lips had curled up at the corners in a knowing little smirk. Christine lowered her gaze to his narrow wrists, followed by his sinewy arms and full, round waist, which seemed fuller and rounder from kneeling down on the carpet. She lowered her gaze to the crotch of his jeans: when she realized his jeans were a bit tighter from being down on the floor, she couldn’t help but think about what was waiting for her under that layer of denim.

“Are you going to teach me how to mind read?” she asked him, and she chuckled again.

“Nope,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“No?”

“You are going to be the teacher, Christine Sixteen,” he told her.

“Me?” She was taken aback by that.

“Yeah. You go and be my teacher.” There was that smile again. It was one of those things that she could feel in her bones, but she wasn’t too sure of it so to speak, that is until he actually said it aloud. He was knelt down there on his knees before her, and thus, it was only up to her in leading the way. Christine leaned forward so her chest was right before his face; she could see him breathing in deep, as if he was taking in her essence.

“Class is in session,” she began, and all the while, she felt as though she was firing off rounds and attempting to hit a moving target. She ran her fingers through the hair over the crests of his shoulders, and then she ran her fingers down his chest again.

“I’m gonna teach you how to do this without looking or thinking,” she whispered into his ear. She opened her coat, followed by her pants; she had to stand up a little bit to nudge her pants down to her ankles.

Blindly, Alex ran his fingers over her knees, and then down inside of her thighs. He cracked that smile again, and he brought his face closer to her crotch, to her panties and the fact that she had put up another barrier for him.

“Good test,” he remarked in a low voice.

“Good test and a good start, too,” she added in a singsong voice.

The ends of his hair brushed against her skin as he brought his head to the waistband of her panties. He rubbed the tip of his nose along her skin in search of the elastic. He then partially opened his mouth and held onto the elastic with his teeth.

“Oh, my god… I have a star student here,” Christine sputtered out as he tugged her panties down her thighs. She gripped onto the edges of the chair to steady herself.

“Let me touch you,” he whispered to her. “Let me touch you, kiss you… love you.”

“Please,” she begged to him. She was fully exposed to him, and he had nothing more than a piece of black silk over his eyes.

He was about to ace the session as he moved his head back in and slithered his tongue into the hood, onto the head of her clit. She had completely forgotten about the menorah next to her as he curled his tongue around the head and rubbed slow and deep. The feeling sent a shiver up her spine from the base all the way up to her shoulders, like the run of a zipper.

He was about to earn extra credit by making her come so effortlessly, and so soon before having their hot cocoa no less. Alex moved his tongue in so deep around the head of her clit that she could feel something wet on her lips. He did it so well and so cleanly and yet he was eating like such a messy boy: a messy naughty boy.

He licked his tongue back again which in turn made Christine gasp, to which she followed it up with a light little yelp, followed by a series of soft groans. She held onto the back of his head to hold him steady.

His tongue kept on going, and she breathed harder from the feeling he brought her. Christine let out a soft groan as she came the hardest that time around.

Breathing hard, she ran her fingers through his hair again.

“Every good boy deserves some fudge,” was all she could muster.

Alex lifted his head, and he lifted the blindfold off his eyes. He showed her a little smirk, followed by a quick glimpse down between her legs.

“Fudge and some strawberries, too,” he quipped back to her with a wink.