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

[ That you put a third finger in earns you a cry from this one's lips and him curling in on himself as much as he can with those restraints still in place. You're treading that fine line between pleasure and pain, but the certainty in your voice is a surprising anchor. It probably shouldn't be though, since you taking him out of his comfort zone and dropping him right in the middle of something that's overwhelmingly new prompts him to cling to the belief that he can trust you with his body no matter what.

Perhaps it's the oil, because the heat inside his skin seems to make everything blur, bound and blindfolded as he is. The way you stretch him out feels like that awful, beautiful kind of good that he hadn't thought was possible at all. ]

[ And he watches all of this quietly, content with feeling through the way that you writhe against him/around him, listening to the shades of pleasure/discomfort/almost-pain in your voice, noting the small shifts and signatures within your scent now that he's pushed you even further than he did earlier.

His free hand is wrapping around your torso again, and massaging your stomach. ]

I've got you.

[ In fact, he pushes a little further into you nice, slow, deep and easy all the way until his knuckles, and withdraws at exactly the same pace. There's no need to rush something like this, at least not until you're cresting towards another high beneath his hands. ]

[ You'll feel then, how tight the muscles in his stomach are, how his belly is caving in response to how you're stretching him out. The fingers of both his hands are fists now, the knuckles on either possibly going white from the strain.

The ache between his legs makes him shudder, he can feel the way he swells and what he can only distantly register as the trickle of precum; a sign of how worked up you've gotten him in so short a span of time.

Have an exhaled sob behind that gag now, because he had barely recovered from the first round when you proceeded to bind him up and now that he's robbed of sight, of speech, and have your fingers deep inside of him, it's become so much harder to breathe. ]

[ Here: let him kiss the quivering skin of your neck, ear and face as he shifts his free hand over your cock. He'll work you up the same way that he's pushing his fingers in and out of you, and also shifting his hips to help you move with him. ]

You're so goddamned beautiful, love, I really can't help myself. I'm going to fuck you senseless.

[ He will keep you close and keep at all of this until you start to come to pieces between his hands all over again, because he doesn't need to put himself into you to get a high out of how you are with him right now.

That is not to say that it isn't going to happen, of course. He knows how much you like it when he rides you. He plans on turning things around in that direction very soon. ]

[ Your voice and your words are like the promise of light in the dark ocean of desire that is taking him under. The feel of your hand on him, the press of your fingers in him, and the way you've decided to move with him sends a shudder of pleasure that both gives and takes.

Those fists his hands were are now lax, his fingers pressing into what he can get of your skin as she sobs quiver past ever pore of his being. He's no longer resisting and he can feel, in that moment, how you sweep him along like a wave, dragging him under. While this is similar to the first time you took him, you'll feel the difference in the way he's giving over even more, so that each lance of pleasure cuts as much as it soothes, burns hot and long and glorious.

It won't be long now, love. You've brought him down and pushed him higher towards utter surrender that he's ripe and yours for the picking. ]

[ He drags it out, then, all the way until you're just a few steps from tumbling. Then he's kissing your neck as he's pulling his fingers out, and shifting his hands unto your hips. You'll feel the way he guides you right down to his cock, which is hard and erect and aching to bury itself inside of you.

From a little below, as you're sinking down unto your boy, you're going to feel the way he shudders, and hear how he lets out a deep, satisfied sound that's somewhere between a moan of pleasure and a laugh of relief.

That would be your fault. He wasn't mincing words when he called you goddamned beautiful.

He pushes into you slowly, just like how he had been fucking you moments earlier with his fingers, and a new tremor wracks his body once he's hit your prostrate yet again with the tip of his dick.

All it takes is a heartbeat and an ironclad resolve to bring enough of himself together to see this through in order for your boy to focus, and start to fuck you, dictating the pace for you both with the buck of his hips and the grip of his hands. ]

[ It's like there's a switch in his head that clicks, because just when he thinks that he's going to fall, that he's slipping off that edge again and this time you're nowhere to be found, you make good on your promise and catch him. You're filling him up and pushing deep, so much that he's gasping as you bury yourself in his skin to touch that part of him that sends a new crest of pleasure through his bloodstream.

Inhibited as he is by the cuffs and the bindings, he's moving against you, meeting you thrust for thrust as best as he can, all shuddering limbs and sweat-drenched skin. Lead and he will follow, because how could he do otherwise? He loves you with every inch of himself and perhaps it's selfish, how he never wants to let you go, and how never wants to be left behind.

His head is bowed as he presses down against you, letting himself close around you as if you draw you further and further in. Your name is an echo in his mind, his teeth so tight around that gag his jaw is a tense line even as his hips buck with a lack of care for finesse. ]

[ You're giving back as much as you possibly can, and you're letting him take you the way that he wants to. Those revelations, in themselves, are thrilling and humbling all in the same breath, so much so that they send a wave of pleasure through this one so forcefully that it nearly threatens to undo him.

He takes this as a cue, then, to thrust into you with a little more force and pry off a bit of the grip he has on his own desperate need to control himself and rein his darkest instincts in just to make sure that he doesn't shatter you completely. This is an assurance that you likely won't, and even if you did, you'll let him piece you back together and still be there for him, no matter what.

The raggedness of his own breath and the desperation of the sounds he's making mirror your own from where you can hear/feel them over your skin as he fucks you harder, burying himself right up to his balls within you/hitting the deepest part of yourself where you'll get the most pleasure from him with each stroke each and every time.

Midway through all of that, in the sex-stained moments of the two of you coming together, you'll hear him gasp, feel him go still, and then feel the way he buries his face into your shoulder and whines as his body gives in, filling you yet again so perfectly with his cum. He's shifted one of his arms to anchor you in place by your chest against his body at this point, because he wants nothing more but to crawl inside and sink skin-first into your bloodstream so that you will never be able to get rid of him.

He loves you. He loves you so much that once upon a time, it made him sorry. ]

[ If only he were free to whisper your name, he would. But he can't and as he's feeling you spill into him you'll hear the low, shuddering sound that escapes him as he spills himself again.

It's not enough, he wants to tell you, perhaps you'll hear that though the haze of desire, want and need that's clouding his brain. Hikaru, please, for the love of everything, it's not enough, and he's held fast by the ropes you've chosen to bind him with even if he needs you so badly.

At about the time you're curling around him, he's leaning back into you, fingers curling over your flesh in the only way he knows now how to beg. Take him however you want to, rend him apart if you wish, there's nothing he can think of that you can do that could possibly make him turn from you now.

The blindfold around his eyes is damp, and he's completely sure it's not just from the sweat that's slicked his skin. He doesn't know if you're watching, but he's shifting his body towards you, head angled and bowed to where he can feel your breath on his skin. His blood is humming, he hasn't gone completely soft and the ache is enough to tear him apart. ]

[ He is watching; he started to soon after the moment he felt you shift against him, and heard that particular note underscoring your voice, made strange as it has been by the fact that he's gagged you. He can, as well, feel the way you tremble over his body.

Maybe, given how raw you are, you'll feel the way he smiles against your cheek. Either way, you'll certainly feel the fact that his cock is still deep inside of you, pressing around your insides.

There is his hand now, hovering close to your head, undoing the blindfold, letting it whisk itself away. The gag follows, but he only lets it hang around your neck as if he's not quite sure whether he's done using it on you or not.

Now he'll kiss you, open-mouthed and gentle, as he takes the sight of your face in. ]

You want more.

[ It isn't a question. ]

[ Forgive him, if for a moment he isn't sure how to respond to that kiss because he's too focused on the fact that he can see you again. You might note the puffiness around his eyes, as if somewhere there he'd started crying. The look on his face is just so lost, by the way, as if he's taking this moment to memorize each and every feature, down to wondering at the precise shade of violent that make up your eyes.

When he finally does kiss you, he tilts his face up just enough so that his lips brush over your upper lip. It's only then that he tries to speak, but the most he can manage is an exhaled breath, as the corners of his mouth twitch in an almost half-laugh.

You have, it seems, pushed him well past the point of words and articulation. ]

[ Which is something that your boy finds particularly poignant, together with the fact that he actually drove you to tears.

You're so beautiful like this, it's near unbearable for him.

He's quiet for a few moments after, because he wants to give you just a bit of time to breathe. He also wants to kiss at your cheeks, the corners of your eyes and your eyelids to wipe some of the traces of that away. ]

Let me bring you down.

[ Now he's the one asking for permission. ]

[ It feels so strange for the gag to be gone from his mouth, and his brows knit together as he shuts his eyes, because the room feels both equally bright and dim.

He shivers then, when you ask and he nods, his lips pressing together before he worries on his bottom lip because he's not yet done and he needs you to help with that. ]

[ You'll get a kiss right on the top of your head before he's shifting his limbs and lowering the both of you unto the bed, helping you turn yourself properly so that you're comfortable being flat on your stomach and on your knees in spite of the restraints on your arms and the fact that the spreader bar is still keeping your legs apart.

He could remove those, really, but you look so perfect in them, and it honestly seems as though you've grown accustomed to the way that restraints can make you feel good.

Once you're down, he frames you with his body, caging you over the sheets as he lets his mouth track down familiar places along the nape of your neck, your shoulders, your shoulder blades. He's withdrawing his dick from your body as he does this, not because he's not ready for you, but because he'd like to do more to put you at ease in this new position.

That mainly involves him shifting downward, to mouth along the perfect curves of your ass, and run his tongue down the crack between your butt cheeks. A bit after that, and you'll feel his mouth against your entrance, sucking and licking up the oil and the bit of his own semen that is dripping down from your hole. ]

[ It's such a beautiful play in contrasts: the restraints and the way he's bound, your gentleness as you help him onto that bed. It steals his breath and makes him dizzy, so much so that when you frame his body with your own he trembles beneath you, arching instinctively to the heat of your mouth which ends in a sharp intake of breath and a muffled moan as he turns his face into the sheets.

Pathetic as it might sound, he feels incomplete without you buried inside of him. It's like you've hollowed him out and left him empty by simply moving your body away. Still, you don't leave him waiting long though, because next he knows you're licking around him and taking your fill.

His forehead is pressed into the mattress now, those fingers of his flexing again in response. ]

[ Perfection might not exist, but you come pretty damned close right now. He wasn't fully spent to begin with: now he's getting hard just lavishing attention upon your ass, feeling the way you quiver underneath his body, and occasionally coming up from air to watch you.

Once he's done cleaning up a little bit of the mess he's made, he's moving to drape himself over you much like a blanket or perhaps second skin, and reaching out to curl his hand under your chin and lift your face up to his. ]

I'm going to gag you again, because you won't be able to kiss me while I fuck you anyway.

[ His voice is rough with unattended need and emotion. His words are matched by how he's also reaching underneath your body, and giving your cock a good, full stroke. ]

[ It is probably poetic then, that the gasp that quivers out of him prompts him to part his lips for you, and that he doesn't close his mouth even if the natural inclination to do so is there. His eyes are back on yours now and the look in them in full of want, full of need, and full of you.

Please, yes. Fuck him again. Push him over the edge once more. He's already anticipating the way you'll fit back in him, which is why his stomach has tightened, the muscles beneath his flesh quivering as he does his best not to squirm on the sheets. ]

[ That your reaction is such a marked difference from earlier only stokes up the lust within him all the more. This night is going to stand out among every night that he remembers for the rest of his existence.

There is no kiss this time: he doesn't need to ease you into anything. There is only him tugging the gag back up between your lips and pulling it into place, him shifting, taking you by the neck and pushing the lower half of your body down in order to bring your hips closer up towards him. A brief respite, as he's moving into position, bringing himself solidly between your legs and how they've been so lovingly, conveniently spread apart by your need for him and the restraints he's bound you up in. Then you'll feel his cock nudging against your ass once more, gradually prying you open to welcome him back inside of you.

He did not loosen you up because you're more than ready for him. Everything you've been doing and all of the different shades of your reaction told him as much. ]

[ He does his best to breathe around the gag, and the sound that leaves him is caught perfectly between a sigh and a whine of pleasure when you press in, push close and snug into him. He can feel every inch of you as you sheathe yourself inside even as he shifts over those sheets and sinks further into your bed. You'll no doubt feel the way his body adjusts as best as it can to you, as if to welcome and draw you further inside.

There is no reluctantance now, just a sense of feeling utterly, surreally content. And when he turns his head to the side, its because he needs to see you, even if just a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. ]

[ And in response to that, once he's fully sheathed inside of you and pressing right down against that spot that makes you weak with need, your boy is setting his forehead against your back in order to breathe you in/breathe over your skin.

He'll let himself slip now, as he starts, for the third time, to spread you wide apart and fuck you into the mattress with those same, deep strokes that he's been giving you the entire night. His grip on your neck and the hand he has splayed over your hip is tight and uncompromising: a direct contrast, at times, to the way he'll shower kisses over your body.

You've proven that he does not need to adjust his pace. You'll let him drag you up to the highs he reaches, and destroy yourself in his arms. ]

[ This latest round comes in fragments of a whole: the bite of your grip on his skin, the contact between the tip of your cock and his prostate that sends him shivering into that mattress, face pressed into the sheets; the way you take him ( rough and demanding ) in counterpoint to the tenderness that your lips press against his skin.

He's reaching for you again, from the pads of his finger tips that graze your flesh, to the way he starts pushing back with his hips as far as his restraints will allow. Even the cadence of his moans into the bed beneath him, the air around him -- listen close and you'll find yourself there.

He loves you so much, he's willing to lay himself down at your feet, crumpled and torn, unmade by your hands.

Take him apart, break him down, make him forget he is anything else but yours. ]

[ And take you apart is exactly what he does with that fuck, and the several other rounds that follow it. Your coming together with him was a small eternity within conceivable time, full of the dangerous beauty of you perfectly willing and submitting to all of the things that he decided to do to you (read: the many permutations behind him holding you down, with and without restraints beyond his own limbs and hands, and fucking your ass/mouth with his fingers/cock). He fucks you up until the very last minute that your will could keep you conscious, and held you close, breathing you in as you drifted off against his body.

He gets up a few hours before sunrise, rising from sheets that are drenched in the intermingled sweat and cum from both of your bodies, setting his back against the headboard of his bed and summoning his favorite pipe to his hands. He takes a few drags, reveling in the afterglow of having you in a way that he thought he would not be able to have not just once, but a near countless number of times by his estimate in a single night.

This is how you will find him if you manage to wake up: naked but for the haori draped over his shoulders, one knee drawn up close to his body and balancing the arm whose hand has his pipe smoking away into the cold morning air. The wards he has placed on the tent that the both of you share are muffling the sounds of a camp that is only starting to wake up in earnest. ]

[ Wakefulness comes slow: first it is scent ( the residual mix of sweat and sex, the mix of cloves and mint that you favor underscored by that smell that's distinct to cigarettes ) and then it is sound ( people moving about with the crunch of grass beneath the weight of feet among other muffled things, the wind outside, muffled voices; ) and then his eyes open and focus, adjusting to what light there is, which leads to the shapes, the hints of color in the tent you two have taken to sharing.

He doesn't move at first. His body feels wrecked, aching in places he didn't know he could ache and as he dimly navigates that threshold of just-barely awake, he remembers the sight of you above him in those last few rounds, the precise weight of your hands as you pinned him down and the way you both came together, again and again, and again.

His skin has cooled now, the oil that you used on him having run its course. That makes him register acutely, the crawling flush up the back of his neck before he shifts over those sheets just a fraction so that he can hide his face in the pillow beneath his head.

That was some... pretty... amazing sex. Um, wow? ]

Edited 2015-03-12 03:45 (UTC)

[ It's the change in your breathing that tips him off before anything else. Rely on your boyfriend to notice something as small as that.

Smiling down at the way you're curling up, and then - since you're right within reach anyway - letting his fingers wander through your hair. He's feeling particularly possessive of you at the moment, which naturally includes wanting to find every excuse to go back to touching you again, even if he'll have to stick to doing so in small doses given how intensely he's screwed you on these very sheets as of late.

No words for the moment: just this. ]

[ He surprises himself when he starts at the feel your fingers in his hair, freezing, for a moment before he slowly relaxes and sinks back into that bed. He's quietly peering up at you now, nose and the lower half of his face obscured by his bicep. You are free to notice the shy slant to his gaze, as well as the minute pause when he's managed to take the sight of you in.

You're so goddamn beautiful it hurts.

If his eyes dart away, it's only because he's suddenly contrite and embarrassed -- but not in a bad way. He just... won't... move... too much. Damn. Damndamndamn. Fucking morning wood. ]

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

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