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

[ And you positioned over him like that without actually sinking down to cover his body with yours is the most infuriating and tantalizing thing in all of Arcadia for him right now, especially since it just reminds him of how much he really, really wants you to fuck him.

Anything he might have said becomes a hiss and a full bodied quiver instead, once you're spreading more of that oil on his skin, as you're touching him. You're in the perfect position to see the way his head tosses, eyes fluttering, eyebrows knitting together, fingers grasping helplessly at air, expression threatening to break down even more than it already has.

He's trembling from the tension that's knotted up in his limbs now just as much as he's trembling out of need. The heat has completely invaded his lungs, and is spreading throughout his nerves, leaving his skin tingling and his mind collapsing under the strain of the needs of his body.

Forgive him, love, for the way he's now trying to shift his legs out of your grip. He's too hot and several touches too sensitive, and your hands are everywhere without being anywhere that he needs them to be all at once. ]

[ Oh no, you don't. He stops moving his hands and curls his fingers firmly instead into your flesh, gaze steady on your face and almost deathly quiet as he waits for you to quiet down.

He won't tell you to stop squirming -- mostly because it's thrilling to get you worked up like this. Instead, he'll be patient. ]

I've barely touched you.

[ Understatement, that. No, he's not putting too much stress on his choice of oil. He knows your skin is likely on fire. You made sure he knew the many ways one could feel so terribly trapped in one's own skin and he's fully committed to returning the favor. ]

Tell me what you want. [ That's whispered over your lips, right before he indulges you and covers your mouth with his own. ]

Nn...

[ That's a soft and helpless noise once you move to hold him in place. Your fiancee's head tosses back against the cushion, eyes sliding shut yet again as he scrambles for some semblance of control. It's difficult, wrestling with one's own instincts.

Trapped is precisely what your boy feels like now. Trapped and wrapped up in too much of everything, hot and beyond bothered, stripped down and vulnerable. You're the only thing that could possibly make him feel better, which would explain that sigh of relief you end up swallowing once your lips meet, and the way he had already opened his mouth to welcome yours once he registered the fact that you were going to kiss him.

It shouldn't come as any surprise that he has to break away first, and what little relief he felt at being able to quench his thirst for you gets swallowed up only too quickly by the fire in his lungs, his heart, his gut and his brain. ]

Please fuck me.

[ Breathless, hushed, and begging: the notes of his need are in his voice and in his eyes. Please see how he's trying to hold still for you now, and how that effort alone is starting to join that ever growing list of things that are currently undoing him at the seams. ]

Do whatever you want to me, but please...

[ Promise him that you'll fuck him, and he'll try his damned best to hold on to it as you torment/tease/pleasure him at your leisure. ]

[ And he's nuzzling your cheek, hands picking up where they left off and are now focused on massaging both of your calves. ]

Mm. [ That sound leaves him softly, even as he shifts to take your lips with his again; even as he moves his hands higher along the back of your thighs to work at the muscles there. ] I'll think about it.

[ And your boy, he's been pushed beyond smart responses. You're going to end up swallowing all the tiny, delicious noises he makes as you kiss him, just like how you're probably going to have to be a little firm and hold him down as you massage him. His body's instinctively arching towards yours, especially in light of how he's burning with desire.

All of this feels so good that it's painful. He's also incredibly hard between both of your bodies, cock twitching and leaking with precum in spite of the fact that you've barely laid a hand on him since you brought him down like this. ]

I really want you to fuck me now.

[ There's no heat or edge of demand underlying those words because you've quite literally massaged anything close to that out of him. As things stand, he almost sounds petulant.

Screw what he was considering just moments before this one. Maybe you could fuck him, and then do whatever you want...? For the love of everything, you are driving him insane. ]

[ He'll take those noises and answer them with a satisfied hum from deep in his chest before pulling back so he can watch you again as he slides his palms up your thighs, kneading a steady path over the curve and angles of your hips/waist/torso and making sure to steer clear of your cock.

Forgive him, love, if he wets his lips unconsciously. He's quietly mesmerized by the way the oil shines off of your skin, accentuating each dip and rise of muscle.

The moment you speak up though, there's a pause and a slow, smug smile. You're so damn cute when you look like that.

You'll feel one cuff to widen, loosening their hold on your wrist just enough for him to draw your left arm out of it. ]

No.

[ His gaze is turning to said arm now, as he gets to work on the tension there. Patience, babe. This'll be so much better if you let him do as he likes.

He eventually gets to your wrist, thumb careful over your pulse. The room is quiet. He's quiet. But he'll draw your hand up soon enough, bending close to take your pinky between his lips. He'll suck on each finger with deliberate slowness, as if to savor you inch by glorious inch. ]

[ You are absolutely terrible, and you're going to be rewarded for the terrible things that you're doing with your boy squirming, arching against both your body and your hands when he registers where your hands are/where they're not but really ought to be.

He was ready to protest, by the way, up until you took hold of his arm. Instead, you're going to have him watching you, eyes dark and hooded, breath rushing out uneven and short past quivering lips, all of him veritably wound up with a need that just gets worse with every little thing that you do to him.

His throat has gone so dry and tight now, it's likely that he wouldn't be able to get any words out even if he tried. ]

[ There's the press of teeth as he withdraws just far enough from you thumb that the pad of it is resting between his lips. His blue eyes have turned your way now, seeing only you and betraying the need that he may have appeared immune to.

That's the roughness of the tip of his tongue along the skin of your finger now, and then he's moving that hand back into the cuff, willing it to tighten around it again so that you won't be able to distract him from what he plans next.

He's using both of his thumbs to follow the dip right before the jut of your hipbones; the pressure loving, caressing and very much like the way he'd trace the crack of your ass.

He wants you to think of the places he'd usually touch you, while not actually touching you there. You've an agile mind with a vivid enough imagination, yes? ]

[ You shift down and his eyes follow your progress, even as his breath is starting to taper out into tiny little sobs that are a mix of desperation, need, pleasure and protest all at once.

If that was the desired effect that you were going for with these terrible ministrations, you're getting it and then some. Your boy, you see, is rapidly being pushed too far and too soon, leaving him incapable of doing much else but unfold beneath your fingertips and lose himself a little more at each turn. His hands are clenched tight now, see, and his hips are bucking, digging back into the cushion, pushing up towards your thumbs. He's also writhing yet again in earnest, pressing the side of his face - flushed cheek, panting lips shaped in a trembling moan and all - against the cushion.

This is bad. He could very easily end up coming in spite of the fact that he really doesn't want to. ]

[ Yes. This is what he wants to see.

Leaning down now to drop a kiss to your knee as he keeps up rubbing at that spot, the weight of his fingers shifting from deep and thorough to almost feather-like. ]

Let go, Hikaru. [ He murmurs that, his voice low, lulling, earnest. ] It's only you and me here.

[ Just the mere touch of your lips and simple circle of your thumbs sends another wave of lust rushing through his system, and it's nearly enough to drag him under.

He shakes his head vehemently at that, even as a whimper's crawling its way past his throat, tapering out into the a breathless moan. He isn't looking at you again, because he's sure that given the state that he's in, all it'll take is the sight of you looking back down at him to ruin him.

Not letting go is sure to hurt him, though. You'll be able to see that for yourself plain as day, given the way that your boy is trembling beneath you, muscles coiled and tight underneath tingling, impossibly heated skin. The sheen of sweat is mingling with the oil you've rubbed him down with: a result, no doubt, of the effort he's putting into trying not to lose it and inevitably failing. ]

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

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