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

[ 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)

[ 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. ]

[ 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? ]

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.) ]

[ 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 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. ]

[ Your confidence in bed is one of the most amazing things he's ever had the privilege to experience. It's made him feel safe to try new things and to pursue darker desires he hadn't felt brave enough to express as he gets a better sense of himself. There has been very little fear that either of you would overstep in bed; true, it's taken time, he's learning to ask just as easily as giving comes naturally. Recent events have also given him a glimpse of the kind of will you exert to control your desires, to make sure that you keep yourself in check -- and largely because you were always, always weighing the considerations over how he would feel.

Tonight is not about him. Tonight is about what he can offer you, what desires he can fulfill to take you to that brink, all the while reassuring you that he won't break or leave you hanging and wanting. And admittedly, there is something about seeing and feeling you so unsettled that your finesse is near-nonexistent that sends his lust skyrocketing. That is why kisses turn rougher over your flesh, why his teeth scrape hard enough to leave marks on your skin, why the suction of his lips are greedy enough to bruise. His grip is tight; you're leaking, you can break at your will or he could tell you to let go.

But he won't. You will feel that keenly through the link, even as he teases and torments your body in a manner that he hasn't allowed himself to before; in a way he had been apprehensive to, before. It is a high, you see, knowing that you are waiting for his word, your trust in him so concrete that you hold back, utter faith that he will give you permission to let go.

You like this. This is something that really gets you off, isn't it? You don't need to answer him. He's just always been so vocal about his wonder over all the things that make up who you are. That is followed almost instantly by the silent offer that he is leaving you this choice; that your pleasure is up to you. You know your limits better than he does, and he has absolute trust in you to push past established comfort zones if that is what it takes to give you what you need.

He is right here. Right. Here. He won't leave you, he will catch you. Just take that leap of faith, he'll meet you on the other side. ]

[ And that is all he needs in order to make him take that leap and let go of the shredded remnants of his control. Far and enough that you've made it a point to lavish such rough and thorough attention upon him, that the brush of those words over his brain were about as palpable and absolutely to him as physical touch.

It's your name that whines out past his lips when he cums this second time around, and yes, those are tears squeezing past his eyes just as the waves of this latest high crash over his body, leaving him writhing and trembling after each drag. He's a boneless heap of hot skin, quivering muscle and boy in the moments after, chest heaving from the effort of breathing and not getting enough air each time around, mind shattered by the pleasure you've given him.

Yes, he's still not soft. His own cum glistens against the skin of his crotch and belly; his lips are already bruised from the kisses that you have taken from them, and the marks of your teeth and tongue have started to flower on his skin. ]

[ You are possibly the most breathtaking, utterly beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on. And you are his. For as long as he breathes, as long as his heart beats -- you're his. His shoulders have curled around you now, following the line of your body as he smooths his cum-slick palm over your stomach. His free arm has wrapped around your torso, holding you up and keeping you close as he whispers kisses along your temple. ]

I've got you, babe, [ he sighs. ] I'm right here.

[ You feel of you slumped against him, all pliant limbs and warm flesh makes something click into place and he moves gently, rearranging your limbs and easing you down onto the mattress before he starts to pile a handful of pillows together.

His attention doesn't stray very long from you, even as he manages to do all that: his body covers yours, his lips meet your lips, breathing in the air from your lungs and offering his own for you to take. His actions in the aftermath of your lovemaking have always leaned towards tenderness, as if by touch alone he would like to lull you to sleep while he kept whatever nightmares you've had at bay.

He offers you that familiarity now, even as he picks you up, sets you back against the softness and the sheets, body pulling away just briefly enough as he tugs loose one of the bindings on those drapes, letting the curtain fall to obscure the view of one side of your room.

You are free to watch the way he's measuring that cord in his hands as he shifts towards you, weight on his knees. There's a look on his face: thoughtful, considering -- but he doesn't utter a word. Not to ask if this would be okay, not to tell you what he plans to do. Technically love, he doesn't really have to, does he? You got a pretty glimpse of it earlier. ]

[ There's no resistance whatsoever on this one's part, and no words. He seems content, as it is, to let you move him as he recovers, and only really starts kissing you in return once you have him on his back. Ironically, at that point, the attention you give him goes ways towards relaxing him. Maybe it's because such things are good distractions from how terribly hot and bothered he happens to be right now.

All of that comes to an end, however, when he finds himself staring up at the cord you have in your hands. The sight of you with that being measuring between your fingers is enough to make his throat go dry. He licks his lips, shudders over those sheets. He does not, however, move away. In fact, you're going to be treated to the sight of your boy's limbs starting to relax on those pillows.

His eyes are back on yours, and there is nothing in his gaze but you. Moments later, he's swallowing, and sliding his palms down his legs, hooking them underneath his thighs, spreading his own legs apart. A position of submission, all bodily cues pointed towards yielding.

You are free, of course, to move him as you will again once you've figured out what you want to do. ]

Edited 2015-03-04 16:04 (UTC)

[ He has, in all honesty, half a mind to indulge you both and take you like this once before he ties you down. Still, patience has it's merits. You'll see the tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth as he crawls over on all fours, his body covering yours as he kisses you full on the mouth.

His fingers are also catching your wrists, the weight of his forearms pressing your legs aside. He makes it a point to rub the bulge of his own erection up against your cock, hands making quick work of looping one end of that cord around your wrists to bind them together before taking the other end, hooking it along one of the decorative hooks on that headboard ( he noticed them; hard not to, since he does share this room with you ) and drawing it back to lift your arms overhead.

Withdrawing now to oversee his handiwork as his right hand rotates to wind the rope around his palm. His eyes are dark but shuttered. He's also tucking away his thoughts, experimenting with figurative doors to keep you from seeing what he has in store for you. ]

We'll take this slow. [ He says that evenly. ] I want to take my time enjoying you.

[ And his mouth was already opening before you could come around completely, lips parting to welcome your lips and tongue on his. You'll end up swallowing the small, pleased noises he makes, and you'll also end up feeling the way his hips roll up, to better let his own dick slide against yours in a bid for a little relief. Once again, though, there is no resistance. He knows, of course, that you're tying him up. It does not matter.

He is breathless in the aftermath of you ravishing his mouth and heating him up, his gaze faltering only a little as it falls back on your face. The anticipation is threading up in his arms now, tensing him up before he can help it. That's just one of the lovely side effects of this position. The other happens to be the fact that binding him this way forces him to arch up a little, thus pushing his chest up. Obediently, he is keeping his legs spread, not hiding away from you in the slightest.

Those telepathic doors you have placed between him and your thoughts are holding steady. They are also adding to the whole experience for him. ]

[ He keeps his hold on that cord steady, even as he shifts over you, bending low enough to breathe gently over your erect cock. No, he's not going to touch you, yes, there's a purpose to this -- and then he moves lower and lets his breath pass over your exposed balls, down to where your ass is only half-obscured by the sheets.

He keeps that up for a bit, stretching this out and clearly observing how you react to the almost but not quite contact. ]

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