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

[ These are the little things you'll pick up in that minute that you've left him to wait ( the same minute that stretches long enough that his thoughts start racing because he knows you're there, he's even turned his head just a fraction to listen better to the sound of you breathing because his skin is humming with the need of your hands on him ): the muscles beneath his flesh shift and flex, as if he's attempting to adjust the distribution of his weight on his knees without moving too much. Each intake of breath is also shallower than the last, as if with each second passing he's forgetting how to breathe at a steady pace, anticipation building.

It's not impatience. He knows -- he trusts -- that you'll touch him eventually, but the silence yawns all around and the room, given that he's closed his eyes, suddenly seems so large. In the last few seconds before you come close, you'll note how he's shifting his grip on that bedpost, as if the way he'd been holding it has only added to the tension along his arms.

When you finally come close, it will be impossible for him to hold back the exhale of relief to feel your warmth close to him. And he's leaning into your touch and parting his lips wider to let you hook your fingers over his tongue.

That's a failed attempt at him swallowing, by the way, because it feels like his throat has gone dry even as he is hyper-aware of the way his tongue moves just beneath the pads of your fingertips.

You could gag him, the way you did last night. But he'll obey. He'll do precisely as you've asked. ]

[ You're rewarded with a pleased noise, then a very small kiss right on the side of your face. It will barely count as a kiss at all.]

Good boy.

[ Then those fingers leave your mouth. You'll hear a drawer opening, then - after a spell - you'll feel the soft whisper of silk over your eyes, followed by the knot of this new blindfold being secured behind your head. Once that is done, he's securing your wrists to the headboard, tying them together, then attaching the silk ropes to a little hook just behind the board.

Your fiancée, he's still so quiet as he moves over your body, wraps one hand around your neck. He pushes your mouth shut by keeping that hand firm on your jaw.

There's the sound of him above you, the hover of his nose close to your ear, breathing the scent of you in. There's his free arm snaking around your middle, palm spreading out over your belly. ]

You're so perfect like this.

[ His teeth catch the top of your ear and tug, just once. Then: ]

I want to see if I can make you cum just by talking to you. You won't even have to ask if I push you that far.

[ The moment that blindfold is in place, the tension begins to gradually seep out of him, because giving over control of this whole situation to you is something he's realized he enjoys and looks forward to. The trust he offers you is without reservation or hesitation and writes itself out in the way he doesn't resist, even as his fingers are flex over that headboard again. His skin has begun to hum with anticipation. It's such a relief to feel you pressed up against him; your warmth and your shape so familiar over his skin.

When you say those words though, it's like he stops breathing for a moment, but he says nothing, just swallows again and presses his lips together because he knows very well, the effect that your voice has on him. ]

You'll try to keep it down for me, won't you?

[ Saying that sweetly in your ear, as the grip around your neck flexes almost possessively underneath your chin. ]

I'll make it worth your while.

[ He like to take this opportunity out to see how you'd fare if you had to swallow your own pleasure down, and take it into yourself. ]

[ It's that possessiveness that makes him pliant, so much that the nod he manages is wordless and silent even as he attempts to turn his ear more against your mouth. There is a high to this, feeling trapped in his own skin with your voice the only thing he can focus on outside of the way you feel so warm and so good pressed up against him. He can feel the ache building, his cock hardening even more than it already was when he'd been reluctant to move from where he'd lain over your sheets.

His breathing is soft, shallow and hinting slightly at erratic. Do as you will with him, he's yours and he's all to happy to leave himself in your care. ]

Edited 2015-04-19 07:34 (UTC)

[ Ah, if only he could take you down a little trip through his head, and let you experience all of the little, powerful things that move his world. Maybe he will try that on you, someday. Make you feel a bit of what he feels. Make you see the beauty in being able to catch the slightest movements and the tiniest sounds, the subtler things that make up a single scent. Maybe it will help you understand that he worships at the temple of your body just as much as you worship at his. ]

I want you to imagine that I'm mouthing down the full length of your spine right now, open and wet with just the hint of teeth, tasting at your skin, paying extra attention to the marks I've left on you.

[ He keeps his voice low in your ear, calm and even and steady like the way he's keeping you locked in place. ]

I'm taking my time because I'm lazy. Lazy like the hand I have between your legs, letting my palm admire the fact that you fit rather well into my hand.

[ Let's start with that, then, shall we? ]

[ There's a breath leaving him and a shudder moving over his skin as he hangs his head, teeth catching on his lower lip. He remembers, all too well, the events from last night. The scratch of your nails over his skin, the pressure of your lips and the bite of your teeth on his flesh. Pain, he's realized, can be pleasure as well.

It's this contrast to the way you usually handle him that makes him shiver. He loves the care you take when you find yourselves getting lost in each other, no doubt about that. But the high is exquisite -- there's no other word for it. Through the haze of you taking him over and over, that's the only thing he could think of when he moaned out your name. ]

[ But the grip he has on your neck and the fingers propping up your chin is firm. giving you very little slack. From the way your fiancee keeps talking, though, it's almost as if you hadn't reacted at all. ]

I reach out once I feel the way you shiver just beneath your skin, slipping two fingers past your lips. My voice is as close to your ear in that moment as it is right now, and you're going to hear me tell you to fuck my fingers with your mouth. While you're occupied with that, I start jerking you off in earnest.

[ His palm is now massaging your belly lightly, worrying at the smooth planes of your stomach. ]

I get you off slow, painfully slow, and stop every time you so much as try to push yourself into my palm or do anything else to urge me on. My turf, my time. You know I like to be in control, don't you, love?

[ His lips tremble at the way your voice echoes in his ear and his stomach instinctively caves at your touch, the muscles there taut and quivering.

It's not the words, actually, that turns him on, but the cadence of your voice, the distinct way that it winds around what you're telling him and how you describe the things he knows you could do if you set your mind to it.

Another swallow then, as he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, the firmness of your grip on his jaw limiting his movements. It's always fascinated him, so much that he prefers not to dwell on the fact that for all that you're shorter than him and seemingly frail to the eye given the amount of layers you're so fond of wearing -- you could overpower him without a second thought.

His heart is beating faster now, and he's struggling to keep his breathing even. You're going to draw this out and he loves you for it, but he can't deny how frustrating it is that you paint him the image and yet you're not touching him enough. ]

I pick up the pace because you sound so pretty, whimpering around my fingers. You try your best to stifle them, but not a lot of things escape my notice.

[ He moves his hand downward, sliding his palm past your belly and very, very close to your crotch. He shifts it to the side at the last possible moment, and lets his nails scratch lightly over the tender skin of your inner thigh. ]

As I'm jerking you off, I'm pulling my fingers from your mouth, brushing them over your lips, and then using those same fingers to drag down the valley of your butt cheeks. It will be my thumb that'll push into your ass, just up to my nail.

[ There's a pause before he's shifting, and letting his tongue trace the inner curve of your earlobe. He said that he wasn't going to touch you, but he didn't any anything about not doing things like that. ]

I'll flex that thumb inside you, just like that. And I won't finish you off. I'll stop for good, once you're hot and hard and leaking all over yourself. I'll keep my hand cupped around you, to keep you in place.

[ The fingers he has curled around that post are gripping tight, his knuckles white from the strain. He can feel his cock leaking, his thighs trembling and a thin sheen of sweat has broken out all over his skin. There's a tiny sound of protest when your hand misses the place he needs you the most right now and a whimper/gasp escapes him when your tongue traces the curve of his ear.

He feels tight all over, muscles quivering from keeping still because as of this instant, the slightest movement feels like it could only make him feel worse.

Since he can't move his head, it's his spine that curves like a bow, as if he were both leaning into you and caving in on himself.

This is torture, love, but he's holding off as best as he can and biting down on his lip to keep his word that he'll not make a sound. But for God's sake, it would be such sweet relief if you would actually touch him. ]

[ And those small indiscretions on your part go right through him, making him nearly consider giving in to you if only because it meant that he'd be able to fuck you into the sheets sooner.

Just nearly. He never would have made it as far as he had by not being patient. ]

What replaces my thumb isn't another finger, but my tongue. I'm teasing you with it precisely because I know that you can't stand it. I also want to hear you beg.

[ And he does wonder, outside of the scene he's writing out in your head, if you're going to end up doing that for him now. Then again, your body was doing that for you already, wasn't it? ]

[ You might be pleased to note then, that in spite of his best efforts to keep quiet the way you instructed, there's a shuddered half-moan/half-whine crawling past his lips from deep in his throat. It's soft enough that he attempts to swallow it back down, but it's not like he can take it back now.

Has he ever told you that while there are probably others with a far more vivid imagination than his own, he's got enough of one on him where you're concerned that the images you're so lovingly painting out for him with your voice come easy -- too easy.

It's after several breaths then, that he gives in, because keeping himself upright on his knees is becoming more and more difficult. ]

Babe, [ that's coming out hoarse, strained. ] Please.

[ And there it is. He's going to let the silence stretch out for nearly half a minute now, even if he maintains the hold that he has on you, and keeps his lips close to your ear. What will break the spell that that is sure to cast over you is a shift on his part, and a kiss right on the nape of your neck. ]

That's when I give in and push my fingers into you again, so that I can stretch you out and fuck you. When it's my cock that's sheathing itself into you, I go deep with each stroke, tip touching that spot that makes you quiver and weakens your knees. But I don't kiss you. I'd rather nip at your neck, or leave you things to study on your shoulders in the hours after.

[ And he hasn't moved his hand any closer to where you really, really need him to be. That palm and those fingers of his are linger on your skin, massaging/needing/stroking, always close but not close enough. ]

[ Perhaps it's impatience mingled in with so much need, but he's attempting to turn his head to where your voice is once he's snapped out of the lull your silence settled him in.

The fact that you're telling him all this while offering no relief is starting to shred at his composure, because you've reminded him so well of how you fit in him last night, of how you practically pushed all the air from his lungs with each thrust, leaving him craving for your lips and the chance to breathe in the oxygen that you could offer.

Forgive him, if he slips on those sheets a little -- just a little -- because he's doing his best to recover. He can feel the trickle of cum down the side of his erect cock, is now intimately familiar with the tremors that are crawling through him. The room feels larger now, too large, and your presence is the only thing anchoring him in place. Every single inch of him is tense because he's holding back, somehow having forgotten that he doesn't need your permission to cum -- or does he? He's gotten so lost in this exercise and has latched onto the hope that you'll just take him.

Your boy is trembling now, Hikaru. Lips parted and dry, tension lining his shoulders, pulling taut the muscles of his stomach, a bead of sweat sliding down from his temple to follow the line of his jaw. ]

[ There's a soft, fond sigh from your fiancee: it's a rush of sound and warmth over your skin, and following on its tails is your boy's tongue lapping up the sweat trickling down from your temple. Then the hand he has on your neck is moving, turning your face to one side. Given how worked up you are, it's entirely possible that, even in your blindness, you'll be able to feel the hover of his lips close to your lips. ]

Let yourself go, love. I've got you.

[ He had, after all, done this to you just to see if he could, and to leave you hot and bothered and strung out in the aftermath. That was just going to make actually fucking you better. ]

[ He leans in blindly, lips seeking yours. Once he manages to press close, there's a soft, stifled moan as he lets himself spill over those sheets, his grip on the headboard faltering as he sags instinctively against you. ]

Babe, please. [ There it is again, the same two words from just minutes before. This time though, they're coming out soft and weak and pleading.

He needs you close, he needs you now, he needs you weighing him down and pushing him higher. ]

Shh.

[ There are his lips on your lips, kissing you in a way that is deep and possessive and reassuring all in the same breath. Then your fiancee is detaching the ropes around your wrists from the headboard, turning you about and guiding you down, to where you can stretch out on the mattress.

He's moving over you again, and this time he does press the curves and angles of his body to yours. He's released your bound wrists in favor of letting both of his hands frame your face. ]

How about I help you recover so that I can go back to torturing you again?

[ The only answer you'll get from him is the way he rears up, hyper-aware as he is that he can at least approximate where you are based on the closeness of your voice and the press of your body over his.

Those hands of his are also flexing overhead, the muscles straining momentarily beneath his flesh because he's still bound, still unable to touch you even if he so badly want to. ]

Please, [ he breathes. ] Hikaru... I-I want...

[ That's a quivering plea against your mouth -- or what he has managed to reach of it given that he's pinned to the bed with the whole weight of you and still so terribly worked up that it won't take much for him to grow hard between your bodies all over again. ]

[ There's a low 'mmm' purring in your boy's throat. Give him a moment: he'd like to nibble a while on your neck. ]

Do be clear, love. Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to fuck you?

[ Are you actually going to take this out, or are you going to push for even higher highs than the ones you had reached with him the other night? ]

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

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