icarusalsoflew | 003. and in every raindrop... // open post.

[ Right.

Give him a moment. It's really hard to get enough of himself together in order to think about this and come up with a possible solution. ]

There... there might be some in the drawers?

[ This is Ys, after all. ]

[ He's a bit too speechless to do much else than watch you while you do that for a while. It's criminal, really, how beautiful you are. And recover? Really? He's watching you lap up his cum and you think that's actually going to help him recover? ]

Kiss me? [ At least he's recovered enough to reach for you -- or try to, in any case.

He wants you closer. Needs you, really. ]

[ Somehow he is not surprised to see that his comment flew right over your head.

Ah, well. All in good time... ]

So I guess it's Vice science babies for us, then?

[ Jessie is going to preen. ]

[ He's only too happy to oblige, with one hand latching unto one of your shoulders and the other sliding over your scalp and through your hair, just as you had hoped. You'll feel the way the fingers on both hands tighten later on, accompanied by a moan that is as physical a sensation against your body as it is a sound in your ears.

It doesn't take all that long for him to swell a little more in your mouth, and grow hot and rock hard between your lips/against your tongue. The sounds that he makes at each pass on your part also increase in pitch: a direct reflection of how lost he's getting in you. ]

Don't move. [ He presses his nose into your skin right before he pushes off the bed to rummage around. You're free to watch just how getting interrupted like this when he wants you affects him: the tension along the shoulders, how each drawer that doesn't yield what he wants makes him a little bit more impatient--

--yeah, he'll check the bathroom. Okay. There.

Marching back now with a pinched look to his face before he covers you and drops the lube onto the mattress, mouth fastening onto your neck. ]

I will never understand this place, but at least they come well-stocked.

[ That's muttered as one hand massages the small of your back, his breath warm right by your ear. He manages to squeeze out a generous amount enough of the lubricant onto his free hand, stray drops of that gel falling on your ass as he feels you up. ]

[ Have a crooked smile, just as he's removing his thumb from his own mouth. ]

No. That would be indulging you too much. Besides, I want to be able to hold you down properly while I fuck you.

[ He says those last few words as he moves his hand back over your cock. He gives it one good squeeze before letting his finger trace underneath of it, and then lets said fingers roam even further down, where he can slip them between the sheets and your body, right up against the curve of your ass. ]

I wonder... should I take you from the front for the first time, or take you from behind?

Mmn...

[ That was, of course, less of a response to your words and more a response to what you're doing to him. He's rocking back against your hand with the sort of urgency that only ever comes about with being so totally turned on.

The more you work him up, the more he shivers and sinks into that mattress, breathing with a little less ease with each passing second. Everything's crashing down on him, making him feel incredibly tiny and trapped and deliciously vulnerable beneath you. ]

[ It drives him on -- the press of your fingers, the swell of your cock, those sounds from your lips. His hand is pumping your dick in almost counterpoint, pushing you higher, the grip of his hand firm and loving all at once.

Hold back until you can't anymore. The words pass from him to you and he surprises himself at the tone of it, more command than request.

Let him make you feel good. Let him take you out of your skin and towards somewhere else; something infinitely glorious. ]

[ You're going to be rewarded for that request with a whine of protest, and the sight of the expression on your boy's face breaking a little more, all knitted eyebrows and darkened gaze. Nevertheless, he's biting down on his bottom lip, and now actively trying to still the movement of his hips. It's not really working out for him, but he IS trying.

That works out admirably enough for him for a few minutes before he's finally slipping too far for him to recover. He's trembling even more than he was earlier now, whimpering into the mattress, shaking his head in blind, final resistance against the inevitable. The hand he has curled around your shoulder is digging its fingernails into your skin. The hand that was once in your hair has fallen away, and twisted its fingers up into the sheets.

He's so hard right now, it borders on painful. His cock is also twitching within the grip of your hand, and leaking with precum. ]

[ His body responds quicker than he can think, a soft, cut-off whine leaving him so quickly he only registers once it's cut through the air. It's soft, strangled, not quite a moan; more an exhale of desire wrapped with need. There's also a flash of mad white lust going through him, legs parting of their own volition as he's pushing up against your hand while his torso sinks further into those sheets.

He's trembling now -- but he never did stop, did he? It's like his skin is so tight -- to tight -- around the whole of him. And he can feel the twitch of his cock in response to your touch.

Did you really have to ask that last question? He's flushing now. What a sight he must make, looking like he's torn between answering and keeping his mouth shut.

He'll keep his mouth shut for now. ]

[ Ah, that was such a lovely reaction. He's tempted to do it all over again, just to see what will happen. The only thing that stops him, though, is that he's been holding back on the raging hard-on he has had for you for quite some time now. ]

Lift your hips. Keep your hands flat on the sheets until I need them again.

[ Murmuring that instruction, just as he's stooping low and hooking his hand under your left knee. In the meantime, one of the small tables on the other side of the tent is quietly walking towards the bed. There's a single metal bottle on top of it. ]

[ He shifts above you, slowing the pace he's sucking at your cock only for a moment as he sets his hands on either side of your hips. Coming up from another pass, he lets the tip of his tongue lap at the tip of you; gaze hooded, eyes dark.

There are images flashing from him to you now: you on your knees, over him, your fingers curled on the headboard or gripping the sheets ( he doesn't want to push yet, not yet; but the drapes of this bed look sturdy enough to lash you with -- if you'll let him ) your cock in his mouth as he stretches you out with his fingers while he sucks you off until you cum.

His need for you is visceral, his desire a tangible thing. ]

[ He obeys without question and doesn't try to reach for you like he normally would. He wants this. His eyes follow you as you shifting his limbs at your leisure, and his gaze strays momentarily to the table because it's so strange to see it coming over as if you'd called for it but it's there and then forgotten. His palms are flat on those sheets, his lips are parted as he tries to steady his breathing, hoping quietly that his anticipation isn't too obvious in how his eyes dark and full of need.

You're so terribly close and yet so far away -- but on the other hand, he can have his fill of the way you look: more than a touch dangerous, intimidating and so painfully beautiful it cuts him straight to the bone. ]

[ Have a sigh right by your ear then, one finger breaching you as gently as he can manage, the hand that was rubbing at your back coming around your waist so that he can take you back in his grip. Your cock feels hard and hot cradled in his palm, and he shifts his body, moving mouth from your ear to the middle of your spine where he can press kisses over the ink on your skin.

He has his finger slipped well into you now, feeling around and reaching for that deepest part of you. Excuse the soft sound that escapes him. It's becoming a little difficult for him to not think about how the way you feel around his finger makes him anticipate how you'll feel when he pushes his cock inside of you. ]

[ The look in his eyes softens the moment you say that and he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, pausing for what seems like long enough before he leans in to press his lips to yours. ]

As long as I'm with you.

[ That's the most important part, really. Sure, he'd like kids, it's been on his mind a while, but at the end of everything, as long as you're with him, everything's good. ]

[ And this is what you'll see: how your boy shifts your body in closer, reeling you in with little effort, sheds the rest of his clothes, then takes a break to lean in and lap up the rest of the cum that's cooling on your belly.

Once he is done (he took his time there, keeping his eyes on yours from start to finish, letting you feel the heat of him brushing up against your own crotch), he's hooking both of your legs over his shoulders, letting his palms smooth themselves just once over the fine curve of your ass. Then reaches for that bottle, undoes the cap, and pours some of its contents - it looks like oil that glistens silver brilliantly even in the low lights of the chamber - first over the entirety of your crotch, then unto his hands.

It'll feel cold, thick, and strange, especially in contrast to how hot and bothered you happen to be at the moment. It will also feel like it sinks quick beneath your skin in a way that no liquid that exists in the Prime Material Plane does. ]

Mm.

[ Apologies: words will return to him in a moment. That kiss was really nice. ]

Right, okay. I think I really should get out of this.

[ He's still soaking wet, and now some of that has gotten on your clothes and your skin. ]

[ Maybe the way your boy reacts to all of that will make it even harder for you, because now it is almost like his insides are grasping at that finger you've pushed into him, trying to draw you in. He's also pushing back with a little more urgency, even as the needy whimpers/gasped breaths are getting muffled by the mattress. It is, after all, both too much and not enough all at the same time to have you stretching him out.

The control he has on his own thoughts as slipped completely now, flooding your brain with the near fever hot fantasies that are working your finacee up just as much as your ministrations are. He wants you to fuck him hard, to hold him down/tie him up, to dominate him entirely, to push and push until he's begging for whatever little thing you're willing to give him. It's only in that sort of intensity, at this moment, that he can get taken out of himself, and feel a little less trapped in his skin/his thoughts/this place. ]

[ He curls his fingers over the sheets and grips tight because he's beginning to find it difficult to breathe again. His eyes are fixed on everything you do and as much as he wants to ask what it is that's in the bottle, he decides that since he wants this, he trusts you and willingly puts himself in your hands.

What he can't help is the sharp intake of breath when he feels you pour the oil over him. It's cold -- that was expected. He figures at first that it's only natural given the furnace his skin has become, but then it feels like it makes it's way down deeper than anything familiar, and while he does his best, he can't help but squirm a little over the way it feels on his skin. ]

[ But that stray thought you have brings out his skin's keen memory for how it feels to have one's wrists/ankles/limbs tied together tight, to know, intimately, the struggle of one's body against the hard certainty of bindings keeping one in place, exposing, not by his choice but by yours, what parts of him interest you the most.

His hips are bucking against your mouth now, pushing his cock between your lips, over your tongue. Every sob of need that leaves his lips now is also a plea, because it's rapidly becoming impossible for him to keep himself from cresting higher and spilling over.

Say what you will about Arcadia, but it seems as though it is in this place that your fiancee lets himself surrender to the deeper, darker aspects of his love for you. Perhaps that is, yet again, a sign of how much he trusts you. ]

[ Have a kiss on the forehead before he lets you go, turning easily towards the phone on the bedside table. ]

You go do that, I'll order us dinner. Any preferences?

[ Flipping through the room service menu, at that. There's a restaurant downstairs, but you two have a nice, spacious suite. Seems a shame to not make the most of it. ]

[ There is something utterly incredible about knowing that you're wanted -- and just how much. You'll feel the scrape of teeth over the flesh stretched over the muscles along your ribcage, the way his grip tightens around your dick and the press of that one finger before he eases it out and pushes back in, a second joining the first.

There's also a low sound in his throat as his own cock brushes up against the back of your thigh -- hard, hot, wanting.

He keeps this up, feeling you up with firm and decisive strokes as he lets his fingers fuck your ass, the occasional nip along hip and spine shifting to his mouth pressing firmly against the nape of your neck when he stretches you out a little more and carefully slips a third digit in. ]

You're so tight. [ His voice quivers against your skin. His body is aligned with yours now, so much that he only needs to take those fingers away to replace with the length of him which, by the way, you'll probably note is now pressed along one of your inner thighs. ]

[ This is the reassurance he offers you: his mouth covering yours in a far gentler, deeper kiss than he's given you since the both of you started, full not of how much he needs you, but how he intends to make you feel good. Maybe it'll be enough or even poetically apt, since it's coupled with how he slides one of his oil-slicked palms almost worshipfully over the length of your body, and up the side of your face before it gathers your wrists up yet again, crossing them over your head.

Interestingly enough, the spots where his hand touched your skin seemed to heat up, much like the glow offered by a fire. It may also make you hyper aware of how your skin feels on his, especially since the heat generated by the contact seems to be slipping beneath your skin and down into to your gut, your heart, your lungs, your brains.

He's moving his other hand now, taking you by the hilt, handling you with more long, thorough strokes. That place, as you know (or more, at this point, can feel), is covered in that oil too. ]

I love you. [ And then, a sigh over your lips after kissing you again: ] Just feel this through.

Chinese.

[ Because the last time you guys had that was way back in that house in Kibo, when he had needed you to help him shut down this one earnest not-really-former-anything at all. ]

Lots and lots of Chinese.

[ FYI: he's starving. And he's also already stripping and casually discarding everything that he's wearing on the way to the bathroom. ]

[ You're hot enough, large enough, and hard enough to weaken his knees, and the stroke and press of your fingers only ruins him further. It will soon feel like it's your touch alone and the way that you're breaching him are the only things that are keeping him upright.

Another wave of pleasure rushes through him, leaving him dizzy, reeling, and barely able to hold himself together. Keep this up, and it's likely that he'll be able to get off before you even get to fuck him in earnest. ]

Josh, please..!

[ That comes out higher, louder, more desperate, and pleading than he's sounded since you both fell unto each other tonight. ]

003. and in every raindrop... // open post.

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