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

[ A soft laugh. ]

Don't worry about me. Worry more about yourself.

[ Saying that right before kissing you, and then he's snagging one of your hands just as he breaks away from your mouth. He runs his lips, though, over your knuckles just once before tugging you back with him. ]

Lean against me.

[ That is what he tells you, once his back is against the headboard. The table that he summoned earlier is not quite within reach for him, but it does not matter: the things on top of it will come they're summoned.

Said things happen to be a pool of silken cords, a ball gag, and a long, black metal bar with leather cuffs attached to either side of them. ]

[ He is, in fact, thinking about that night: you, him, in that tent on the outskirts of Ys that your party was close enough to Eriska. He is remembering how you both tangled up together in something new and how intense it was to realize that you wanted him in ways he'd only let himself consider in the dark and the quiet. The idea of asking had been too intimidating, but then you took him the way you wanted, pushed him towards a high that rocked him to the core it was frightening to come back down.

And then you were still there with him in the aftermath, this unshakeable presence that he could turn to and hide away in until everything made sense again.

You'll feel him pick up the pace, maybe see through your reflection in that looking glass how his eyes shut as he presses his nose to the hollow at the side of your throat. He wants to lose himself in the sound of your breathing and the scent and warmth of how you feel in his arms. You're also hot and hard in the cradle of his palm, and with each pass he makes it a point to tease the head of your cock, as if coaxing you to cum sooner.

He still meant what he said: Wait. Wait until you can't anymore, until you feel like you might burn up from the inside unless you let go. Leave yourself in his care tonight, come apart in his arms, and let him ruin you the way you need to be ruined. He might not have the same kind of settled confidence that you do, but he is more than ready to pick up the pieces in the wreckage of your climax with a measure of confidence in his ability to put you back together again. ]

Edited 2015-03-02 16:14 (UTC)

[ To your boy's credit, he manages to hold out admirably for a few more breathless minutes. Yes, each pass leaves him trembling a bit more, pressing up into your hand and sounding a bit higher and desperate the last. Yes, the distress and the sheer agony of trying to control himself is written all over his face. He is also flushed with pleasure, though, and rather shameless this time around in showing the kind of effect this little exercise has on him.

He loses all voice when he finally gets dragged up to where you want him to be, head pressing all the way back against your shoulder, eyes wide and dark and unseeing as the shock of climax goes through him like a bullet. Then he's reduced to writhing limbs, desperate cries and bucking hips as he spills all over your hand and himself. He is breathless and weak in the aftermath, and each breath that sobs past his lips is punctuated with a helpless whimper.

You'll be able to feel why, if you held on to him while he came. He has not gone soft, and his skin is hotter and even more raw over yours. Perhaps you'll be pleased, as well, to note that once he manages to get his eyes open, they're focusing on your face through the mirror in a quiet bid for you to take him again. ]

Edited 2015-03-03 01:10 (UTC)

[ The only reason he doesn't turn around right away is because of how he lets his eyes roam over you, as if memorizing your shape. When he does though, he leans back against you and wills himself to relax. It helps, of course, that this is you. And that you've always struck him as perfectly capable in each and every thing that you apply yourself to.

The sight of the things on the table though, are making him nervous again. You've both tried experimenting back home. But everything there had been improvised, things either you or him thought up in the heat of the moment.

These items have nothing "improvised" about them. He is also wondering, and not for the first time tonight ( which you will be able to tell from the mess of his thoughts as he's unable to filter ) why you have them. Here, now. ]

[ He'll draw his legs and knees up on either side of your body now, and frame you with himself as he starts kissing the side of your face. ]

I'm going to make you feel even better than you did earlier with those.

[ It's a quiet and steady promise, as solid as that collection of tools that is sliding over to rest on the bedsheets easily within Hikaru's reach. Even as one of his hands is skimming its fingers down the full length of your arm before snagging right at your wrist and drawing it behind your back. ]

[ He lets you do that, draw his hand over behind his back with relative ease. He's not going to fight you on this, not when he wants to see this through.

The bar does not make him nervous. Neither do the cords. It's the gag that does, but he tears his eyes away from it and focuses instead on your voice and the way you're touching him. His breathing is deliberately steady, or at least, he's trying to make it steady. It's harder than it should be, since this is turning him on. ]

Okay. [ There's a smile before he draws you close again, lips pressing into your hair as his arms settle around you. He starts to ease himself out of your body though, because as convenient as the lubricant was, its something from Ys, and he doesn't trust it as far as to get too comfortable.

You are free to pick that up. Your lovemaking has kind of... fried his internal circuits.

After a bit though: ] It's going to be over soon. Isn't it? This part, at least.

[ The first cords that slid into his hands goes around your wrists, binding them tightly together. The next are wrapped about at a spot exactly between your elbows and your hands. The third tie your upper arms together.

He pauses there, in order to tilt your chin up and kiss your mouth: another silent reassurance, a means to give you time to get used to having your arms bound behind your back, and an excuse to enjoy the way that you taste. He's always been hooked on it.

Once he's come up for air, he snags some of his fingers on your bottom lip and says this over your mouth: ]

Draw your knees up towards your body and close your eyes.

[ There's a soft sigh on your boy's end the moment you pull out, followed by the slightest shudder from your fiancee. He doesn't move away, though, and does seem perfectly content with staying this close. ]

Yes, I think it will be. [ A beat. ] I hope it will be, at any rate.

[ Too many things have stirred up old ghosts, and reminded him of the ache of old wounds. ]

[ He can feel the press of the cord into his flesh, but he does not have the words to tell you how the hitch in his breathing, the skip in his heartbeat, is slowly becoming more out of anticipation than an outright resistance to this.

He follows those instructions without question, drawing his knees up and shifting his weight before he closes his eyes. ]

[ He didn't let go of you; he held on and continued to stroke your length, urging you on as you hit that crest. The feel of your cum on his fingers and wrist is slick and while he's still touching you and feeling you up, his grip has gentled.

He's returning your gaze through that mirror now and leaning close to breathe right by your ear. ] That wasn't so bad, was it?

[ That's a soft hum of pleasure as he draws near, lavishing you neck with greedy kisses. His hand has tightened over you again, and then angle of his arm changes, he lets you go and rubs his open palm down the length of you, fingertips moving along the patch of skin between your balls and your asshole. The smell of you intermingled with the scent of cum and sweat is driving him crazy, making him want and impatient. ]

[ One day, he is going to look back to this exchange between the two of you and marvel at how perfectly beautiful it was, seeing you completely submit yourself to him for the first time.

He nips at the crook of your shoulder, briefly pressing his nose against your skin in order to breathe you in once again before bending, fetching the spreader bar that has obediently positioned itself right where he needs it. You'll feel and hear, in the silence that follows, the way he takes hold of your ankles, slides the leather around them, pulls in tight, and buckles them both down. The bar is wide enough, it seems, to keep your legs spread a good distance apart without difficulty, effectively leaving you exposed.

The next sensation that follows is silk over your eyes, and your boy tying the knot firmly behind your head. Then there are fingers tracing your lips, and his voice back in your ear. ]

Open your mouth for me.

[ And as you drive him back up again, making him quiver and squirm and whine in protest against how terribly good you're making him feel, he can't help but think back to the very first time he ever asked you to destroy him this way. You had been so nervous, near conflicted by how overwhelming the entire experience of being the one in total control was, and at times, far too careful. He had loved you all the same for it.

None of that nervousness seems to be there now. You're ruthless in your kindness, relentless in how thorough you are being in extracting precisely the kind of reactions out of his body that turn the both of you on. Back then you had not wanted him to beg, on the pretense that doing that meant that neither of you could really meet each other halfway. Now you seem to have reached a better understanding of what you can do for him, and what he can do for you.

You're going to be this way for the rest of the night. Because he has never truly seen you like this, he does not know what to expect from you.

It's that revelation, then, that merits the way your boy responds next: with another shudder that runs down the full length of his spine, one that prompts him to press down against those fingers that you have close to his entrance. He's trying to turn his head towards yours now, attempting to seek out your mouth with his in spite of how his lips tremble. One of his hands is also trying to move between his own legs in the hopes of snagging your hand and urging you on. ]

Please, Josh.

[ That plea is the softest of whispers into the air between you both. ]

Please...

[ Isn't it delicious, seeing your boy so far gone that he isn't even sure what he's begging for? ]

[ Here is the moment he hesitates.

Forgive him, the gag is the most intimidating item in this set. Yes, you have both played around with blindfolds, but this will rob him of speech and the idea is a little difficult for him to wrap his head around. Yes, you gave him a little preview of what it would feel like, but thinking about it is a whole other animal from the actual thing.

But he trusts you. He wants to do this for you. So you'll see the way he swallows, feel the tremor that goes through him before he parts his lips for you.

He trusts you. This can't be so bad if you're fine with it. And you have never once done him wrong. ]

[ And this is what he does in response: he turns your face towards him and brings your lips together. He kisses you like he wants to taste every part and inch of your mouth, like he owns you but owning you isn't enough to satisfy him. He draws this out, sparring with your tongue, letting you enjoy this as much as he is enjoying you.

When the moment is done, while you are still breathless from the way he's ravished and bruised your mouth with his affections, he's slipping the ball gag into place, pushing it back just far enough to force your lips apart into a circumference that is a little wider than what it would have been if you had placed your mouth on him, and securing it tightly behind your head, just like how he had done with the blindfold over your eyes.

He is quiet as he busies his hands with moving over your body. One of them wraps around your neck and curls its fingers under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up to where you'll hear him breathing, and maybe feel the ghost-like graze of his hair close to your face. The other hand skims down your body, over your sweat-drenched and oil-slicked muscles, and draws tight over your belly and around your waist, so that he might massage your left thigh. ]

Try to imagine that the gag I've fitted you with are my fingers in your mouth, or perhaps my cock between your lips. It might help.

[ It is a small sacrifice, really, gagging you. Nevertheless, while he won't get to kiss you nearly as much, now he will get to study how it changes the way you sound for him.

Ah, yes: ]

You'll need to ask permission again too, if you want to cum. All you have to do is nod when I ask you.

[ He knows all the signs that point towards you teetering close to the edge, beyond how you start to sound when the high begins to wash over your body. It's time to take advantage of that. ]

No. Not yet. [ The most he offers is a lingering kiss on your cheekbone, nose pressed against your skin and forehead to your temple as he does that.

He also stops touching you when your fingers get close enough to touch his palm, his own fingers snagging your wrist with a firmness that bites -- just a little -- showing you how there will be no negotiations tonight.

You want him to take you the way he wants to. You want him in control and your body as his plaything, if only for tonight in this room. ]

We do this on my terms.

[ Just that. No hard ultimatums from his own two lips. No promises that he'll not do this or that if you protest.

Your imagination, your mind, tends to run away from you when need and desire come into play. For once, he is happy to exploit the unknowns, leave you to drive yourself crazy with the possibilities. ]

[ And your fiancee flinches not out of distress or pain, but from getting a solid reminder that this is, indeed, what he has asked for and you have just shown him that you're truly ready to make good on your word.

He immediately goes as still as he possibly can in your arms, head bowing under the weight of his own need, teeth catching his bottom lip in a futile attempt at biting back the fresh wave of whimpers that threaten to bubble past his throat. He is, much like the first time you ever held him close and told you that you wanted things, now holding back as best as he can, and waiting on your next move.

(...Inasmuch as he can, anyway. You are right. He's hot and uncomfortably hard, burned by his own pleasure, overwhelmed by the way his mind is racing through the many things you could choose to do or not do to him now, and in the hours that follow before dawn.) ]

[ It's the change in his breathing that'll catch your attention first, alongside the shiver that goes through him as he listens to you speak. There's some discomfort at the gag, but it's mostly the newness of it all, and the idea that his mouth will be like this for as long as you deem it necessary. Breathing is not as difficult as he thought it would be, and when you suggest he think of it as if he had his mouth on your cock, it does make this marginally easier.

The blindfold has robbed him of any other distractions, anything else that he might turn to when things between you both get more intense. Right now, your voice feels like a force unto itself and his skin seems to come alive where you're touching him.

As furrowed as his brow looks, there's the hum of expectation in his bones. The cuffs at his ankles restrict his movement, and in strange way they calm him in the same way that the restraints on his arms do.

This isn't... as frightening as he thought it would be. In fact, the picking up of his heartbeat is directly proportional to his awareness over how this is turning him on. ]

[ That is exactly the kind of reaction that your boy was hoping for, even though he had already been right about certain that he would get it. He has, after all, firsthand experience in the matter.

He keeps the hand that he has on your neck in place, but starts moving the other up and away from your leg. He lets his palm rub lazy circles over your belly, matching how he has started nibbling/licking your ear, and then - as he lets his mouth start placing a new line of kisses/bite marks down your neck - he's lightly scratching his nails around your nipples before worrying at both of them.

Yes, he takes his time with all of that. He wants to see how it'll effect you, especially since this is your first time being bound, and you must still be incredibly sensitive from the oil. ]

[ There, that is much better. It is, admittedly, a boost to his confidence that he is doing this right by following instinct and thinking just enough to direct things the way you and he want them to go.

God, it's so criminal how hot you look. That's a stray thought he doesn't mean for you to hear even as he bows his own head, mouth warm to your ear and tongue tracing the outer curve of it. His hand has gentled around your wrist, the backs of his fingers gently caressing the length of your own.

He wants to kill you with kindness and ruin with you with a tenderness as sweet as it is ruthless. ]

One more. Just let me see you cum one more time and I'll tie you up, baby. [ Husky, full of want and rough need. ]

I've never told you have I? [ Teeth gently catching at the topmost part of your ear now, lips clamping down over the skin and cartilage before he worries on it for a little bit. ] It gets me going when I know you want it as much as I do.

[ Did he shift his hips more snugly against your back? You bet. And he is hard. His erection, truth be told, is becoming a big distraction.

Nipping a line down the side of your throat again, and when he speaks, his voice is low, perhaps a touch dangerous. ]

Do you think you could touch me back? [ Whisper-soft, that, with a touch of humor and the wayward thought that if he ruins his pants and gets scolded for it, it's a small price to pay for what he hopes to achieve. ] Just to keep those gorgeous hands of yours occupied while I get you off again?

Edited 2015-03-04 03:53 (UTC)

[ It's in times like these that the little things truly destroy you. He's hyperaware of the slide of your own skin over his own, the precise way your voice echoes in his ear, the solid press of your dick behind him, and your smell. Given that such things are currently enough to get a rise out of him, it should come as no surprise that he's quivering in your arms, and biting down harder on his own lip.

He does not want you to stop though. Please, don't stop.

This is how he defers to your request: by shifting, trembling again when he feels the way you're pressed up against him and so ready to fuck him at your leisure, and reaching around to try to ghost his fingers over your length, through the fabric of your pants. There is, as well, raw need written all over his face. You'll see as much through your reflections in the mirror. ]

[ He never knew that foreplay could tear you to shreds, that it could drive you so much to distraction that you would want to beg for release.

It's not so bad in the beginning. You'll even see it in the way that his head tilts to one side, therefore giving you so much more access to his neck, because the way you're kissing him is delicious, and the low sounds that leave him affirm that. If the gag were not in place, he might he worrying at his lip now, but you are right about the way that ball fits inside of his mouth. He lets his thoughts roam as you touch him, the image of you on your back as he sucks you off coming easily.

It's an interesting play in contrasts. Maybe he'll get to tell you that at some point, that he was filing things away at first. In so many ways, you have been a teacher to him, and as immersive as your lovemaking can be, it has also always been instructional.

But the oil makes his skin heat up, and after awhile what you are doing to his body takes more and more of his attention and he remembers that you are doing this to him, that he is tied up and cannot move at his leisure.

He's trying not to lean forward, because the urge to rub himself into the sheets is strong. But he's struggling with himself and with the things you are making him feel since he is standing erect now, hard and quivering and leaking, even if you have not yet touched him there.

You told him he had to ask for permission. It seemed easy at first but when his mind and body are so full of static, it's a little difficult to focus long enough on getting his request across.

The sounds around the ball gag are more urgent now, often cut short as he sucks air in around it. The muscles in his arms and legs have gone taut again and you can see how the bindings dig into his skin. ]

[ You'll feel, then, the appreciative hum in your boy's throat right up against your neck, and how it tapers out into a reverent sigh. ]

This is how you look right now.

[ He tilts your face upward so that he can murmur that into your ear. Then he's letting a thought brush over your brain, much like the fingers he had been ghosting over your body: a psychic projection of the very scene that you can't see. You trussed up, looking thoroughly strung out and overwhelmed with lust against his body. Him, holding fast to your neck, violet eyes at half-mast, smiling that crooked smile that you probably were in love with before you even realized it.

He keeps the image up, so that you can watch the way you react to slight flex of the fingers he has under your chin/around your throat, the open-mouthed kisses he has started to place along your neck and shoulder, and the slow crawl of his hand down to your dick. At least he's wrapping his free hand lovingly around you. He could have easily decided to tease you more.

No, he won't start getting you off just yet. This needs to be taken step by step, especially since he's pretty much given you the telepathic equivalent of a mirror. ]

[ He makes his pleasure known through the muted moan he breathes into your ear/against your skin. His fingers flex just a little, just enough to grip you better and stroke you with more eagerness.

Perfection so often lasts the span of a heartbeat, but for the duration of that snatch in time the moment can stretch to the equivalent of near-forever. ]

Yes, [ he whispers, breathless, needy, his own hips rolling in response to your shaky ministrations. The effect of his impact on you is heady, beautiful and raw. ] Just hold on for me a bit longer.

[ Those words are strained and drift off into the labored cadence of his breathing as he adjusts to your weight, shifts his grip and strokes you more roughly in the cocooned warmth of his palm and fingers. Let him take you higher, let him drag you to the peak. When you go over, he'll be right there, ready and waiting to catch you before he gives you more. ]

Edited 2015-03-04 04:59 (UTC)

[ Your words ultimately offer the kind of reassurance he needs, if only because there is a promise written in there somewhere, pointing towards you truly taking him apart. As such, at least initially, it's enough to embolden him, and work a little better at getting you off.

...Initially, anyway. He has, after all, been thrown completely by this entire exchange, and feeling how hard and thick and perfect you are only reminds him of what it's like to have you pushed deep into his ass, rocking against his insides, pressing against that spot that make him shiver into the mattress. Thinking on that, of course, only elicits more sounds of desperate need from your boy, and make him move with far less finesse and capability than usual.

He is trying, though, even as you make it more impossible with each passing moment for him to think about nothing else but your own hand on him, or fantasizing about the moment when you finally choose to fuck him properly. As such, it'll be some five minutes before he's losing it for real, his breath sobbing out in between more whimpers as his shoulders curl in, hips rolling up of their own accord, eyes fixed on the motions of your hand between his legs, cock twitching and aching and leaking with precum.

He could be spilling all over your hand now: he's already slipping, cresting up towards another high. But he wants to hear you tell him whether he should continue to hold off or let go. You did, after all, say that you wanted to watch him, and he wants to make sure that you're happy, you've had your fill. ]

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

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