Samurai Deeper Kyo, Kyo/Yuya, the great outdoors
He dragged her into the dirt and the shot went wild, her hair fanning out over dirt and leaves, her teeth bared and eyes defiantly narrowed.
She was inured enough to him that she just narrowed her eyes when he pulled her yukata open with a careless jerk, but rough fingertips on her thigh made her jump and writhe. The gun in her hand was up in a second, but his smile only broadened when she shoved it up against the underside of his chin, pressed into soft skin.
That look was unmistakably a challenge, and she was startled enough by his deft, not-quite-gentle touch between her legs, thumb and knuckles sliding against her, that she made a hitching sound low in her throat and the gun wavered, her legs jerking reflexively. And that was some signal of surrender, because his hot killing grin flashed and then he kissed her, bearing her into the dirt. She really might have shot him then, rather wanted to for a long moment, but in the end she let the gun drop to the ground and punched him instead--out of principle, and honestly startled when it landed--as his fingers slid inside her.
He was probably lucky she'd dropped the gun, because her fingers spasmed and her whole body bucked, head digging into the ground. Her hand fell away and fisted in his clothing instead, yanking as she whimpered and tried to think beyond the touch. He chuckled, the sound rough and low, and mouthed along her throat, canines scraping fragile skin and making her pulse leap.
He was distracted enough that he let her roll him, managing to look defiantly down at him even through eyes dilated and hazy with pleasure as she sank down over him, rolling her hips to work him inside her. His hands--broad, rough with calluses and slick from her body--spread against her hips, controlling her, rocking her against him even as he thrust up against her.
Stupid pervert, she chastised mentally, but was too busy strangling a shriek of his name as she shuddered over him to share the thought.