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

[ After a bit more of that, there is a single, blindingly hot moment where all breath and capability to make any sort of sound leaves him. It hits right before his will finally collapses, and has him writhing against your body, crying out in earnest as he cums in your mouth.

It takes him a while to drift back down, and he does so in a mess of quivering limbs, breathless sobs and quiet whimpers over the pillow. He still feels so hot, though, and weak with need. In fact, that release doesn't seem like it did much for him at all, given the fact that his dick hasn't gone completely soft.

Forgive his inability to look at you. It's all he can do to figure out how to get his lungs to work again. ]

[ It's in moments like this that he has to really tamp down the need to preen, because you looking the way you are right now is something he did and you feeling good has always been something that has brought him pleasure.

He doesn't wait for you to relax before he's licking his lips, the taste of you in his mouth and down his throat; his hand gently feeling your cock up because you are far from done, babe, and so is he. ]

I swear, the way you look is pretty sinful. [ All appreciation and desire from this one, even as he's crawling all over your body to cover you with his form.

Have a kiss, love: slow, lazy, coaxing -- even as his grip tightens momentarily around you in a gentle squeeze, enough to get you going again with the unspoken promise of more. ]

I could spend the whole night touching you like this.

[ There's a half-meant protest buried in the way your boy squirms in your grip, and whatever force it might have had is further undermined by the way he opens his mouth to yours, and how he arches up into your hand.

It's so terribly hot, and he's getting wound up in his own skin all over again. That would be your fault, of course. ]

I don't just want you to touch me.

[ The need is overriding every other thought, and darkening the look in his eyes the moment they're turning back towards you. If for anything, it's a pretty clear sign that he is, indeed, starting to get into all of this in earnest. ]

I know. [ No smugness now, not as he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he withdraws. His hand has let you go, fingers catching you by the wrists and drawing you flush up against him so you can straddle his lap if you choose.

His face is tilted up to look at you. ] Do you trust me?

[ You'll get absolutely no resistance from that one, and you'll also have the extra treat of seeing how he almost immediately shifts as best as he can to settle down on you.

Your question steals the air from his lungs, and darkens, even further, the look in his eyes. He swallows the lump of heat and pleasure in his throat before speaking. ]

Yes.

[ It's very hard to not look at your mouth or maybe even further down, to where your bodies are pressed together. ]

[ He rears up just enough to bring both your lips together. The kiss lingers, his hands moving from your wrists to your waist, drawing you closer as his tongue coaxes your lips apart.

There's a mirror off to the side. It's large enough and angled just right towards the bed that the both of you are reflected back at him. Maybe you'll catch stray bits of the plan that's forming in his head even as that kiss turns a little bit more urgent and intense. ]

Turn around and lean back against me?

[ Being released only means that your boy gets to put those hands of his to good use, and let himself skim his palms over your skin, following the smooth planes of your chest and the curves of your shoulders. There is a minute pause that you'll feel through the link the moment he notices what your thoughts are touching upon, but he moves to follow your request nonetheless.

A bit of that tension is back in the moments that follow, threading itself between his muscle and bone as he starts settling against your chest. Rare is the time you'll see him this demure, beyond how he's reflected in that mirror now: eyes downcast once again, knees unconsciously trying to lock together and help his body curl into itself, flushed in the aftermath of fucking your mouth, hands clenching lightly at the sheets beneath you both, lungs still locked in their struggle to breathe right over the rapid beat of his heart and the dizziness that only ever comes out of feeling too much, lips trembling in apprehension and anticipation. ]

[ He skims his palms up the sides of your arms to your shoulders, a gentle squeeze of reassurance as he arranges his own limbs so that his drawn up knees frame your body on either side. As he leans in to nuzzle your neck, eyes gentle as he watches you, his left arm comes around your torso, hand settling fingertips over your beating heart and his right hand has taken your hand, tangling your fingers together. ]

Look up. [ He murmurs that, low and soothing as he starts to kiss your neck.

It's more than just the alien beauty of you when you look like this, though the sight of you is breath-taking, he won't deny that. Your moments of vulnerability are things you guard so closely, but to the best of his abilities, he will always make sure you have a safe place with him when and where he can. He is not the only one, he knows, who wants you to feel at ease in your own skin, and he is pretty damn sure that years and years of trauma won't be undone in a single night.

But he can try to start. And maybe, even after he's done his turn in life, you'll remember that. If that's something he can manage, then however brief his run with you, it will have been worth it. ]

I want you to see what everyone who loves you sees. What I see, when I look at you.

...Mm.

[ That soft noise is the last protest you get before he's lifting his eyes. They immediately seek yours out, if only because he still isn't ready to focus too hard on his own body.

It feels good, though, leaning back against you. The sheer, solid proximity of your presence, your lips on him, your hand in his own, and the warmth of your own skin helps. He arches his neck, breaths slipping back into the heaviness that isn't born out of anxiety or shame but out of pleasure, and tries to let himself enjoy the moment. ]

[ What you see when you seek his gaze out in that mirror is the way he's already looking at you -- unblinking and totally focused for what might feel like a long time as he presses tender kisses along the side of your neck.

When he does blink, the look in his gaze turns softer, more tender, and he offers you a smile before he turns his face completely away from the reflection and into your skin. The scent of you is intoxicating, it makes him want even more -- and he can still remember the feel and shape of you in his mouth. Given the way you've leaned back against him, you'll no doubt be able to feel how hard he's grown beneath the the fabric of his pants. ]

Love you, [ he murmurs that by the shell of your ear, even as the hand whose fingers he threaded through with your own lets go to shift lower down towards your lap.

You fit -- for lack of a better way to put it -- so perfectly in his grip that he has to will himself to slow things down; there is no rush after all. You're still full between the cradle of his fingers, so he knows that it won't take much to get you going again. But he wants to stretch this out, make you writhe in his arms and forget the uncomfortable feelings that come with how Arcadia makes you look. So he takes his time, strokes your cock only up until you tense against him, and then eases you back down, moving his hand away to knead at the inside of your thigh, while he indulges in the feel of your skin and pulse beneath his lips. ]

[ And there is a unique sort of helplessness that comes with being incapable of doing anything but watch what your lover start to do terrible/wonderful things to you. Put that on top of all of the other parts that make up the whole of this experience - your breath warm against the side of his face, your voice in his ear, the way you know exactly how to hold him and work him up - and there is only so much that a body can do, even if the heart and mind aren't quite as certain as they ought to be.

It starts off with the look on your boy's face cracking, just so, under the strain that comes with feeling everything through. Then there's the increasing raggedness of his breath, ones that occasionally taper off into shaky gasps. The buck of his hips follow, along with the arch of his body against yours. Later down the line, those gasps become soft whimpers, and he's started to rock against your hand, wordlessly urging you on. His eyes have, in fact, dropped back down to focus rather intensely on the movement of your hand on him, as if watching you might just persuade you to get him off a little faster. ]

Edited 2015-03-01 13:00 (UTC)

[ He's watching you the whole time, gaze focused on the look on your face, on the way you're moving in his arms. He slows down the way he's getting you off deliberately, until his hand comes to a stop and he only movement left is the way his thumb is caressing the tip of your dick.

Warm lips press against the edge of your cheek, close to where your ear begins. ]

Let's not rush this. [ That's his hand drifting lower so that he can fondle your balls, while his own hips shift right up against the small of your back where his own erection is growing distracting in his pants. ] I want to draw this out.

[ His voice has dipped lower, to an almost hushed degree. ]

Do you think you can hold back for me? [ Nuzzling your neck again, your scent getting under his skin and into his blood. ] Just until you really can't anymore?

[ There's a strangled whine the moment he's left with nothing else but your thumb stroking along the barest beginning of him. He really can't help the way his hips jerk up, because that is his body trying to seek out the fastest way to satisfy its needs. All of those other movements you make a little later down the line really don't help either.

The conflict on his face is clear, because he desperately needs you to touch him/fuck him thoroughly, but he would also like to bend to your wishes. The mess of his desires are becoming clearer through your telepathic connection with him, in case the death grip he's got on those sheets and the hard press of his toes over the mattress weren't adequate indicators. ]

I...

[ Swallowing, because he's burning up in his own skin. That tends to make everything difficult, including getting the words out.

He'd like to tell you he'll try, and yet. ]

[ I've got you, you'll feel the brush of those words from his mind to yours, lips pressed against your skin as he breathes in. ]

Just hold back enough for me to love you down properly.

[ That hand of his is still, but his grip hasn't changed around your cock. ]

Do this one thing for me first. And then I'll do you however way you want.

[ There's a darker desire strung around those words and the offer he wants to make will come in flashes of times previous: you, him, in that room in the Tower, his belt binding your hands as he pushed into you. You'd needed to give up control then, but he'd been new to things and his hesitance had let him explore something new with you, but only the fringes.

Things are different now. He won't hold back if you don't want him to. ]

[ As strung out as he is at this moment, the precise ways in which you respond to him - particularly the ghost of your presence slipping between his own thoughts, filling the well of his brain with your memories alongside his own - is more than enough to throw him.

Fuck, he needs you so damned much, it's... ]

Will you? Please?

[ He's turned his face up towards yours as he says that, his eyes as pleading as the note in his voice. ]

[ That hand he had over your heart this whole time? He's moving it up so that his thumb can graze the length of your jaw. It is so incredibly humbling to know that you feel safe enough to show this kind of vulnerability to him. It makes his heart ache, settles his resolve.

Have a kiss now, love: tender and sweet. Maybe you'll feel the amount of willpower it takes from his end to restrain himself from just outright ravishing your mouth because it's become incredibly obvious how much you do a number on his control.

His eyes stay on yours, unblinking: ] Whatever you want, Hikaru.

[ However you need me. ]

[ Intense and overwhelming as your response it, it goes ways towards putting him at ease. You'll note down as much, given how he relaxes a little more against your body, in your grip.

His gaze has returned to the planes of his own chest and stomach and further down, to the hand you have between his legs. A heartbeat later, he's spreading his legs a little bit more, momentarily biting down on his lip in a quiet indicator of just how hard it is for him to get his body to do what he wants it to do. His limbs are veritably humming from anticipation: he has, after all, truly placed himself in your care now. ]

[ He only realizes that he was holding his breath in anticipation over your response when he takes in air to fill his lungs the moment you spread your legs a little more for him.

He'll resort to nuzzling your neck now, eyes on that mirror as he cradles your balls in the curve of his fingers, one foot hooking beneath your calf and drawing it a bit more to the side.

His hand moves up again, touch featherlight as he traces the shape of you, mouth pressing to your shoulder. ] Look up, babe. Look at me.

[ His fingers curl around you at that, the fist he has around you pumping upwards in steady, decisive strokes. ]

What do you want me to do to you after this?

[ Yes, he's asking this now. Let him take your mind off of all the awful things you've come to associate with the way you look. Let him give you new things to think about. ]

[ And he's pliant in your grip, shifting in perfect tandem to the way you move him, obeying almost immediately when you tell him to look up. However, you'll have to forgive the fact that the look in his eyes is a little unfocused. He cannot, after all, keep his head above water and save himself from drowning in everything that is happening to him. ]

A-ah...!

[ That tapers out into another helpless noise, and you'll feel the way his body squirms against the hold you have on him. When he finally manages to respond to you, his voice is low, thick, dazed. ]

I want to be completely helpless in your arms. [ He pauses there, swallowing, trying to make sure that he'll be able to keep on speaking around the lumps of his heart in his throat. ] I want to just be a body that exists for no other purpose beyond getting teased, fucked, and ruined by you.

[ He tightens his grip on the upstroke, taking in a breath as he does. The image you've just offered him sends a shudder down his spine -- one that is a mix of anticipation and surprising need.

He can do this for you. He can say that much now with less hesitation than a few short months ago. ]

Will that make you feel good? [ Forgive him for having to check, love. That pristine bed in the center of a rotting room of the ruined castle beneath the lake left too much the imagination. ] For me to do that?

[ He nips at you ear. ] Is that what you want me to do? Tie you up so you can't move while I touch you like this?

[ He knows the exact pressure to make you feel good. He goes a little beyond that -- just a bit. ]

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

Yes.

[ That word is breathed out from trembling lips, and followed, almost immediately, by another whimper. There is little else to him now but the hand that you have on him, and the way it's slowly becoming impossible for him to make good on his word. He is trying, though, and it is systematically destroying him in precisely the way you want it to. ]

Please, I'm yours.

[ Just as much as you are his. His experiences in Arcadia permanently changed the meaning of agony/pleasure for him, putting him in touch with the deepest, darkest and most terrible urges that were as beautiful as they were frightening, ugly, and - by human parameters - wrong. But at the end of it all, such exercises had been rape in all senses of the word. None of it had been his choice.

This was his choice, and - if he is to believe in you completely - doing something like this or not doing it at all will always BE his choice. That he can ask something like this of you and give himself over entirely without any fear of judgment or without worrying that you'll truly hurt him changes everything. He can give over control, give in to be used and take his own pleasure from it, and be this way because you love him. ]

Edited 2015-03-02 03:58 (UTC)

[ It's both an incredible frightening and humbling thing, the way you put your trust in him. You will always be more than just a body to him to take and have his fill with ( and you'll get the muted whisper of that through the link that the the two of you share ) but here in the privacy of your chambers, if only for the next few hours, all that matters is what you want from him and what he's ready -- and willing -- to offer.

He feels you up again, forehead pressed to your temple as his mouth works at your ear. The pressure of his grip builds with each deliberate stroke, his hips shifting behind you as if to ease his own need.

The arm he has about your shoulders has moved away, his hand slipping between the one you have on the sheets in a gesture that asks that you hold onto him -- dig your nails into his skin if you have to, he doesn't mind at all. ]

Do you think Geomi would mind if I used the ties on those drapes? [ The humor in his voice is raked over with desire, and he opens his mind to you a bit more, showing you how exactly he'd like to tie you up: the ends of the cord snaked about your wrists, you propped up against pillows so you can lean against the headboard, the sashes of the outfits your tailor put together for him coiled around each ankle as he arranges you to his liking and worships you completely with his mouth, his tongue, even his teeth.

Maybe it'll get to the point where he can get you to beg for him to please not tease so much, and all he'll do is smile -- all dark eyes and the simple whispered phrase: But you said I could do whatever I wanted because you want it too. ]

Have I ever told you how much of a turn-on it is when you blush, just for me? That I get you to do that? And that even when you say no, you still want more?

[ Yet, even as he's saying that, he's wondering at the idea of gagging you with some other thing -- a piece of cloth stretched across your lips. Do you know how your voice is something he clings to whenever you two make love, yes, because it anchors him and pushes back the insecurities that he might be doing something wrong; something you won't like. This is foreign soil in an even more foreign land and he's gotten a taste of how Arcadia makes everything more.

He isn't too confident yet in tucking your voice away when it's that which he needs to direct him to press on or stop altogether. But you're linked now, you and him. Perhaps he can indulge you in that as well, while not feeling too apprehensive that he might go too far. ]

Edited 2015-03-02 12:30 (UTC)

[ And he's already moving with you, unable to help the way the stroke of your hand and the press of your hard cock so close to yet simultaneously too far away from his ass makes him moan. The images you send him, of course, don't help in the slightest.

He wants this, though. He wants all of it, and then some. In fact, he shudders anew over your skin the moment you so much as think of gagging him. See, the true pleasure in being robbed of one's voice or deprived of any one sense is the aftermath of it, when everything becomes far too intense to bear.

Perhaps you'll recall what it was like for you, when he stripped you down to the bare essentials, and stole your voice and your sight in order to leave you with nothing but what he chose to give you. He misses that, you know. Having someone willing to go that far, or to push beyond that completely. ]

[ 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)

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