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

[ There is a high in this: in letting his tongue tease your entrance, flicking over your hole as he breathes warmly over your exposed skin; in lightly rubbing the tip of it in rapid succession just to get you to jerk and squirm even as his fingers curl into your flesh in an unspoken command to keep still.

He widens his mouth and covers you completely, hands shifting to better cup your ass as he breaches you. He wants you not gasping, not whimpering -- but begging. He wants your inhibitions dropped, his name a prayer and a plea on your lips because your body has become a cage that only he has the key to.

It's a little while into that, that there's the distant, frustrated thought of being caught between wanting to get up and dig out the oil you so lovingly subjected him to the last time and staying right here at a stalemate.

He feels a cool, solid piece of curved something by his knee when he shifts his weight. And that's what makes him stop enough to give you temporary reprieve, because he looks down unsure over what to expect and... huh. ]

Edited 2015-03-10 15:23 (UTC)

[ Another shudder goes through your boy when he registers the fact that you've pulled back and away from him. His grip on the cord, however, remains tight. He also isn't entirely succeeding at getting his breath back.

If he was a little less strung out, he'd ask after you: he had not missed the shift on your end. As things stand, though, he can barely get his thoughts together.

It seems as though you're being left to put two and two together on your own, Josh. It isn't too hard to figure out, though. You are the Blade King Izanagi's Betrothed. He is yours, you are his, and everything at his disposal is yours. ]

[ He takes all of five seconds to realize that you are too distracted by far to have called that bottle towards the bed. He can feel how tightly wound up you are, how scrambled your thoughts are -- and it all clicks into place.

So he sets you back down onto that bed and unfolds his body from how he tangled his limbs with your own. What you'll hear next, is the soft, sighed chuckle followed by the sounds of him uncapping that bottle and the drop of that oil onto his palm. The feel of the liquid seeping into his skin makes him take in a breath, then he's rubbing his oil-slicked palms together and smoothing both hands over your inner thighs, over the whole length of your cock and down along the valley of your ass. ]

This has got to be my favorite thing in Arcadia. [ Those are his warm lips over the skin right beneath your navel. ] After the way you look, of course.

[ Your finacee recognizes the smell immediately, and that, in itself, has quite the effect on him. A tremor of anticipation runs down the full length of his body, gutting through his already less than coherent thoughts and pooling down in his belly --

-- then there's hardly any time to recover from that, because you're touching him, and he can feel the way the cool burn of the oil as it sinks past his skin, bringing his nerves to life. It's intense enough to make him whimper. Another whimper quickly follows that one when your lips whisper over his body.

What good are lungs if they decide, quite simply, not to work right? Like so. ]

[ Have the scrape of teeth over your flesh, just as he rubs at your entrance, tracing it's circumference in order to tease you.

You wob't see it, the way his eyes are hooded and dark, but maybe you'll be able to make out just how much you're affecting him by the way he has to pause and breathe; the way his touch lingers, fingers curled into your flesh as if in anticipation for the need to hold on.

Not breaching you just yet. He wants to see how far he can torment you without providing you what you need. ]

[ And here is what you are going to get, since you are out to indulge your curiosity: your boy quivering a little more underneath your body, as if you the entirety of him was a string on an instrument that you've decided to pluck at idly, without any real rhyme or rhythm. The tight clench of his bound hands, and the way their knuckles are rapidly turning white from the strain. The raggedness of his breath, as his lungs fail to still the way the air shudders through them with each pass of your teeth. The tiniest whimpers that make it past his lips as the oil does quick work of his sanity.

He's tensed up to a near painful degree now, because he's torn between trying to urge you on and trying to get away. All of this is simultaneously not enough and too much. ]

[ Have a satisfied hum then, as he licks the head of your cock before nibbling down the side with his lips. He follows that line all the way to the snatch of flesh between your thigh and your crotch which he's lapping at with loving strokes of his tongue.

He'll slip one finger into you now, slowly and gently, as if to better relish the press of your inner walls around his digit. ]

[ That gets an incredible reaction out of him. He arches back against the mattress, moaning in earnest. A split second later, his thighs are pushing against your body, like his legs want nothing more but to lock together.

It won't be clear whether he's doing this because he wants you to stop or because he wants to keep you right where you are. That's going to be obvious, given the chaotic mess of his thoughts.

(He is, by the way, as hot and as tight as ever. That's the lovely thing about being with another man: most days, fucking him is about as glorious as the first time you ever made love.) ]

[ The response you offer him is beautiful, he has to stop at first and just watch you from underneath his lashes as he feels around and fingerfucks your ass with the kind of ruthless patience that he hasn't shown before. When he withdraws some heartbeats later, he eases a second finger right alongside the first. Once he's pressed in all the way to his knuckles, he's curling both, tracing your insides and shifting into a position that will allow him to take your cock into his mouth.

I could do this all night, if you want that. That's a passing thought from his mind to yours as he sucks you off with an eagerness that might remind you of the first time you both ever made love. The only difference this time, of course, is that he's had ample time to familiarize himself with your shape and the press of you on his tongue and he's also a lot more confident in giving you pleasure. ]

[ By the time you've gotten around to fucking him with too fingers, the cadence of his breathing had changed. It had shifted to something lower and heavier with his building need, and every bit of air that he drew almost always tapered out into a moan. That later devolved into an earnest cry of pleasure intermingled with need the moment you started sucking him off again.

There is an earnest protest written out somewhere in the way his mind opens to yours. You've rendered him near speechless with all of this, see, leaving him incapable of responding to your statement in any other way. Each fresh wave of pleasure leaves him quivering apart a bit more in the aftermath, and there's little left for him to do but buck his hips up towards your mouth, cry out/whimper into the pillow, and hold tight to the cord that you've lashed his wrists with.

It won't be long now. He's full, hot, hard, and throbbing against your tongue/between your lips. ]

[ The way he's sucking you off slows deliberately, because he's become aware of the signs that point towards you moving towards that crest. When he releases your cock for a bit, he still as well those fingers inside of you, half-withdrawn from your asshole as he folds his legs underneath him. You'll hear the sound of his fingers working to tug loose his own pants, the sigh that he breathes over your cock as he finally touches himself. And then his lips kiss the head of your dick again, the tip of his tongue teasing the slit as he lets a third finger join the other two and pushes back in so the cool metal of the engagement ring you gave him is pressed against your skin.

He picks up where he left off at that, but this time, the way he's loving you down is in a fashion that lingers, as if he were relishing the taste/shape/feel of you in his mouth and timing the way he jerks himself of in tandem.

Yes, this is deliberate. Yes, he might want to drive you more than just a little up the wall. ]

[ The entirety of him arches up at that, matched, simultaneously, by the way his legs finally unfold again in a bid to spread himself wider. It'll likely be a delicious contrast to the way the inner walls of his ass clench and grasp at the fingers you have pushed into him. He's crying out even louder now, and each sound that leaves his lips is strangled by pleasure and a desperate need for release.

A few heat-stained moments after, he has his cheek pressed hard against the pillows, and his hands are clenching hard enough to make his fingernails dig near-painfully into his own skin. His hips are bucking up with new found vehemence, and all of the little noises that leave his lips are pleading.

He's trying, desperately, to hang on, to not teeter over that edge. His body, however, has incredibly different inclinations from his will. ]

Edited 2015-04-05 01:39 (UTC)

[ He can feel his own cock swelling in his hand, and as the fire in his own gut builds, so does the way he's sucking you off become erratic.

There's a soft moan from him as he withdraws shakily his tongue licking his lips before he leans in to press open-mouthed kisses over your stomach. The oil he used to slick his own dick up has sunk past his skin and into his nerves and bloodstream -- and as much as he would like to wait, he can't anymore. ]

Let the rope go. [ That comes out more as a plea than anything else. ] Hold onto me.

[ His fingers have withdrawn and his palm is pressing one of your thighs open as he guides the head of his shaft to your ass. His teeth are also back at your neck as he covers your body, leaning into you for both support and contact.

Forehead to your shoulder now as he breaches you, a soft and cut off expletive leaving him because fuck, you're so tight. ]

[ Now, because of your request, one of your boy's arms is wound tight about your body, and his other hand has crawled up into your hair, fingers pressing against your scalp. His legs have also wrapped themselves around your waist, locking you in so close that it might be difficult to tell not just where either of you begin or end, but whether it's him who's shuddering, or you.

He's giving a little more with each passing second, and his lips are right against one side of your face, crying out/whining/whimpering into your ear.

Every time with you is much like the first: overwhelming and wrecking, equal parts nervous energy and crushing certainty. It never fails to leave him hotter and dizzier the further you press into him. ]

[ Each thrust he pushes into you wears at him, breaking him down into wordless breaths and kisses that falter over your lips and skin. His hands have let you go: one grasping instead at the sheet beneath you, while the other seeks purchase on that headboard. His thoughts are a mess filled with how he's seen you tonight -- skin as luminescent as moonlight, features so beautiful and deadly he would not mind in the least that you rent him to shreds if it meant that he would be like the stains on a blade that endures.

You are breathtaking to him in a way that makes him crave and need, but if the world were to strip away all that, he would love you still. Because you have his heart and you always will. ]

[ And it's when each thrust of yours starts getting harder and going deeper that his voice crests up towards a different pitch, hitting a high and desperate that he only ever gets when he's truly losing control/losing himself in you. When he tumbles off the edge of climaxing a bit afterward, he's momentarily losing all voice and sense before he truly begins to writhe beneath you. His grip also tightens to an unapologetically painful degree, with his insides clenching around you and his fingernails digging into your skin.

He's slow on the descent, and he doesn't get back down to where he was before either of you started. In fact, when he releases you, it's only because he needs to sprawl out, weak and boneless, over the sheets. He hears nothing but the thrum of his own blood in his veins and his heartbeat. He sees nothing but this place, and you. ]

[ He surprises himself when he recovers before you do, all dry lips and labored breaths as he shifts over your body so he can better track his mouth over your skin once more.

His blood is up and there's a hunger in his veins and the sight of you so shattered in the aftermath of him taking you is warming his skin all over again.

He'll just... occupy himself with one of your nipples then; tongue moving over the nub right before he exhales warmly over it. ]

[ And that effectively dashes any chance of him recovering at all. He squirms beneath your weight, another half-hearted noise of protest escaping from his throat, and then he's falling to watching you, breath shallowly whispering past his lips in increasingly short drags.

He can't help himself anymore, really. You're pushing him past breaking, where he'll be hard-pressed to obey you in whatever you ask him to do. It's a good thing that he's given you full license to be as demanding, intense, creative, and uncompromising as you like, then, huh? ]

[ That's a smile into your skin right before he pushes himself up and over you, so that he can look down on your face. He's easing himself out of you gently, lips nuzzling your jaw, all nibbling kisses and warm breath.

His hands are seeking yours, fingers intent on tangling themselves with your own as the high levels off. He's not by any long shot, done. Not by far. But he is considerate enough to give you a bit of breathing room -- just a bit. ]

[ A soft "ah" touches the air at you pulling out of him, and it's coupled with the shudder of his body over the mattress. His insides still hum in the wake of your departure: an uncomfortable reminder that he'd very much like you back in him as soon as possible.

Gripping back, lips already seeking yours out through the barrier of what little space there remains between the two of you. ]

[ His lips find your lips easy enough. It's really a matter of moving to this familiar dance you've set for yourselves. His mouth is gentle, the motions of the kiss a caress as he takes the taste of you in.

He can't say it enough: you fit so perfectly against him, nevermind if you're over him, straddling his hips or he's pinning you down just like this. You fit. And right now, that's all that matters in all of the world. ]

[ At first, he is grateful for the two of you tapering off for a spell. He's too wound up, and can barely manage to keep his head above water when the simple friction of your skin sliding over his own is enough to drive him up the wall.

A bit after that, though, his kisses are getting urgent, hungrier. He's also making noises of need deep within his throat, and quivering anew underneath your body. You would have also felt the way he has hardened, his cock hot and erect against your own. ]

[ It's not so much that he matches you kiss for kiss, more that he lets you have your way with his mouth, passively receiving each bit of hunger, each nip and lick with a steady patient one of his own.

He moves his palm over your chest, down past the firm planes of your stomach, fingers massaging the jut of you hip before he lets his hand slip between your bodies to feel you up.

His own cock has grown large and full and he rocks his hips against yours, feeling the brush of your erection right alongside his dick. ]

Tell me what you need. [ Nothing ever seems quite enough tonight. He wants more, and he's pretty sure you do too. ]

[ He whines against your ear at that, just as his body squirms beneath your own. It takes him a bit to get the words out. ]

More. [ Has he ever sounded this young? Has he ever begged this way? ] I want more.

[ He needs it. He needs you pushing him, driving him on, breaking him apart. And his mind is swimming in too much pleasure for him to hide any of those sentiments from you. ]

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

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