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

[ The only reason why he takes longer than he should is because touching himself to make him ready for you is it's own kind of torture. He takes it as an opportunity to let his gaze roam over your back, to drink in the sight of you flat against those sheets, ready and waiting.

He pulls his fingers out then, let's his hand move lower to where he can cup your balls as he shifts into a better position behind you, the hardness of his length hinting right up against your entrance.

He stops fondling you when his free hand comes around to close around your length, each upward stroke matched by mouthed kisses on your back or the sweep of his tongue over that ink on your skin.

His grip is firm and a little tight, and his hips are moving against yours, rubbing the hard and swollen length of him between the cheeks of your ass.

Close, yes, but not enough. He's not really doing this on purpose. Maybe. ]

[All of that solicits more than a few not-so-quiet, desperate noises which your boy then tries to stifle against his own hands. He's bracing himself now, trapped, as he is, in his own skin and between sheets that aren't cool enough to cool him down anymore and your solid, hot weight over his own.

You're so damned close yet so damned far away. It's enough to make his own hips jerk back and the rest of him sink down even further, as if his body wants nothing more than for your body to fuck it. If you can't put two and two together there, maybe the lost look he's sending you now from over his shoulder might drive the point home.

At this moment, he's almost regretting this decision. Having your mouth on his skin rather than on his own mouth when he needs to breathe is just making things worse.]

[ He's catching that and curling around you, lips catching you by the jaw as he shifts to angle himself better. You'll feel him pressing close then, and the brush of the back of his hand as he's guiding himself into you with the utmost care before that hand slides over your hip, fingers curling around the just of bone beneath muscle and skin. ]

Ease me in? [ He's whispering into your neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex and you. ] Please?

Mm.

[That's about as close to saying 'yes' as he possibly can, because the fact that you're starting to fill him up again is enough to push everything out of the picture for him, together with the ability to stay coherent.

A hitched breath, and he's gathering more of himself up on his knees in order to spread his legs a little further apart. Doing that, of course, means that you're going to slide in to him even more perfectly than you already are. It's enough to make him gasp and quiver anew.

It's likely that you have not seen him blush the way that he's blushing right now. It's a look, oddly enough, that seems to suit one such as the Blade King so wonderfully it's disconcerting.]

[ He lets himself in more gebtly than the first time -- it requires a lot of willpower not to cave and give in, and you'll feel the way he's trembling with the effort to go slow: his breath hot against your skin, the hand at your hip flexing because he knows a tight grip will likely bruise, the other braced on the sheets beneath you, curled into a fist.

There's a strangled noise against your shoulder when he's finally sheathed to the hilt, and the succeeding intakes of breath are short as they shudder past his lips. This one's tense all over, and the room has become so damn hot he can hardly breathe. ]

[He's always admired the way that you give to the people who matter to you the most so freely, even if it comes at some cost to yourself. That tendency of yours becomes all the more obvious in a situation like this.

He sucks in a breath, and gathers what tatters of his control and sense that he can in order to speak past the need in his gut, the hardness between his legs, the heat, the dryness in his throat.]

Take me the way you want to. Please.

[There is nothing you can do, at this point, that could possibly hurt him.]

[ How you can wreck him with so few words is both thrilling and frightening. As such, he's pressing a kiss to your shoulder, the hand at your hip coming to curl against your stomach.

He starts slow, hips shifting against your rear to set the pace, his breaths shallow and weighted. He's gotten a better feel of how you are around him now, and the friction from each stroke makes him tense and shudder at alternating turns. ]

Move with me, [ he whispers, the words a little unsure, caught between an offer and a question even as he presses you both down from the waist up because close is not nearly close enough.

Those fingers at your belly flex, and as he lowers you both against the sheets, his other arm comes about your shoulders. ]

[He makes a noise of acquiescence, but it's a lot higher and younger than it ought to sound. At least he managed to do something, though, other than breathe and continue to lose himself all the more in the way you fit into him.

At first, of course, attempting to match your rhythm gives him a bit of relief. And then, when your cock starts to hit his prostrate with each and every stroke, it starts pushing him even further towards another high, robbing him of sense and air and replacing both with nothing but heat and sensation.

It isn't too long before he's a quivering boy pinned beneath your weight and so perfectly filled by your dick, whimpering into the sheets, fingers clenching tight, seeking purchase and not quite finding anything to keep him stable.]

[ At first he thinks that it's simply that he's overwhelmed. You're his first and this is all so new, but with each stroke he feels you close around him tighter and it doesn't take him long to make the connection with what it is that the tip of him is coming up against and the way you're quivering in his arms.

So, he's curling around you, kisses mouthed against your shoulder, over the ink spread across your back, and softly punctuated by your name, whispered and strangled between his lips. Even as he tries to curl his fingers around your length, his grip is faltering, because the room feels so small, the air too thick and it's all he can do to breathe as the ache builds.

You'll feel the spasm go through him as he's unable to hold back any longer, as he emptied himself into you, the helpless and gasped sounds leaving him accompanied by the heat of his breath right beneath your ear. ]

[That's more than enough to set this one off, and he ends up riding your high, blending it with his own, and losing himself in it perfectly and utterly based on the way he feels beneath you, and how he sounds. You'll feel, in those last moments, how he breaks around you, the hot warmth of his own cum spilling out over your hand.

When it finally releases him, he slumps down over the sheets, eyes shut and breath shallow as his mind scrambles to recover, as his body tries it best to stop shaking itself apart. It's been far too long, and to be fair, he had not ever thought that he'd be able to be here, like this, with you.]

[ He feels a little deaf. Like the room is too eerily quiet that the silence has its own hum of sound, his breathing making far too much noise even if each intake is slow and deliberate. His heart.is alsp thudding in his chest, reminding him a little of the last game he'd ever played, whole and well before his second life.

He's like that for about a minute, and then you'll feel him easing off his weight over you -- just a little, as well as the tremor that goes through the arms bracing his weight on either side of you.

He's... not planning to move. Not yet. Being this close allows him to enjoy the luxury of breathing in your skin, basking in your warmth.

He takes a long ( and oddly content-sounding ) breath before he murmurs: ] So.

Is this going into the night right right way?

[ Yes, he's smiling against your shoulder. No, he didn't mean to think about Shin Yamatai, he just remembered that dig because... because. ]

Edited 2014-05-05 06:23 (UTC)

[There's a pause from this one's end, then a quiet laugh.]

I think it already has.

[No, he's not going to move at all. You are, quite literally, holding him together right now. He wouldn't trade this moment for any other in the world at this point.]

[ A chuckle against your shoulder then. Before he's pressing a kiss against the artwork penned into your skin.

After a moment though: ]

You're amazing.

Thank you. I do try my best.

[And while that sounds like his customary teasing coupled with the usual confidence, the softness of his tone and the look in his eyes might say otherwise.

You're pretty amazing yourself, LaRue.]

[ Man, he doesn't want to move, but...

Shifting back now, and easing himself away from you with a nudge from the arm around your shoulders to draw you up against him.

He likes this closeness, it's a kind of intimacy he'd never thought about, had never found himself interested until... well, you. ]

[No words from this one, just a whole lot of small gestures geared towards him pressing in close and making himself comfortable...

...There is a yawn, though, eventually. Small and rather reminiscent of - of all things - Mitsuru.]

[ Have a kiss pressed to your brow then, Hikaru. ]

Sleep. You look beat.

[ That's murmured as he hooks a leg around yours and brings himself closer. ]

I'm only going to sleep if you're going to stay here.

[He knows he already asked, but... please indulge him.]

[ Okay, there's no immediately point of reference, but none of the Hounds have dogs for pets, but if they did, the way he's nuzzling you would be reminiscent of a puppy looking for quiet affection. ]

Not going anywhere unless you tell me I should.

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

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