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

Please. I'd like that.

[ He's starting to relax, which means that the shakes are beginning to settle down and bleed out of his limbs. In fact, he sounds almost dazed now, and it is matched by the way he looks up at you.

You've found it frightening before, haven't you? To look back at him and see just how much he trusts you, and how willing he is to follow your lead and let you do whatever you want to in order to bring you both back towards stable ground. ]

Then kiss me. [ That's murmured over your lips. ] And don't think of anything else but what matters: us.

[ He'll lavish your mouth with attention at that, shift his weight to his knees as he straddles you lightly, just enough to keep you in place and press up against you so that you can feel how much he needs you right now.

His hands have left you to undo the tie at his neck and shrug off that coat he'd donned for the night. When the tie comes loose, his fingers skim over the buttons of your top with the intent to shed you of the trappings of your own clothes. ]

[ He'll cling to that just like how his lips cling to yours before they ultimately part and let you kiss him deep and full and well. He's also letting his arms move, allowing his hands to roam down the full length of your body both because he's too eager to have his palms remember the feel of your skin beneath them, and to assure himself, once again, that you're really here with him and you're staying for good.

A shuddered breath between the two of you is what you get once he registers the fact that you're right about ready to take his clothes off.

Please do. Please, do everything to me.

That is what his eyes are telling you, once he's lifting his gaze back up towards your face. ]

[ He'll relieve you of your shirt then, hands lingering over your skin as he parts the folds of your shirt. He'll catch your hands and move off of you, draw you up and sit on that bed so that he can guide you over him as he strips you down to just warm skin over bone.

And then he'll smile at you like you're the only thing that could ever matter, the only thing he could ever see as he guides your hands over him and goes through the motions of stripping himself down.

It's always been like this, whenever you both make love: push, pull, meet in the middle, because the middle-ground is where you both can lose yourselves to each other.

When you're both naked over those sheets he'll run his fingers up your sides, over your shoulders and up to fist in your hair to draw your mouth back to his. ]

[ And with each passing second he's relaxing a little more, letting you override his sense of control and the fear knocking about in his heart and his ribcage, letting his skin settle beneath the weight of your touch. Hence, it shouldn't be too surprising how he's pliant in your grip by the end of it all, reeling from how wonderful you've managed to make him feel in such a short time after that bad fall, and how the cadence of his breath has slowed, grown short, gone ragged.

There's a soft sigh leaving his lungs once he feels your fingers in his hair, and he follows the turn of your grip without a second thought, mouth already opening to welcome your lips and tongue. His limbs, in the meantime, are spreading out a bit more, like his entire body is unfolding just to let you be in the perfect position to touch him wherever you want. ]

[ You'll feel the roll of his hips beneath you then, the way he's rubbing himself up against you because his body craves the warmth of yours. He'll kiss you like you're the only place he can breathe air from, like this moment needs to be stretched out and savored for what it is.

Earlier tonight, he asked you to be his and you said yes. Let him be your shelter, a safe place to turn to when you feel like you can't manage anymore. Let him be someone you can turn to and come apart with, because he'll do everything in his power to piece you together again. ]

Tell me you love me. [ He sighs that against your mouth as his hands fall away. The tie he discarded is tangled between his fingers now. ] Tell me again, Hikaru, please.

Love you.

[ The words are a little stuttered, but they ring with the full depth and breadth of what he feels for you. It's also written in his eyes, and in the way his lips pant for yours in the aftermath of their departure.

He's past the point where he cares to notice anything but the way your gaze and your face fill his vision. You probably have him close to precisely where and how you want him. ]

Love you so much.

Do you trust me? [ It's more than a little frightening to know with some measure of certainty that your answer will be yes. That you'll let him take you apart with the kind of humbling faith that he'll be there for you every step of the way.

The next kiss he presses to your mouth is tinged with desperation and all the love he feels in his heart. ]

Yes.

[ Yes, absolutely, please --

He can't say much else but just that one word, though, because you're the air he breathes in right now, and without you drinking from him, he can't hope to keep himself from being crushed by the weight of his own heart. ]

[ He'll guide you then, set you down against those sheets and draw your arms over your head. The suite you've been given has a bed that works for what he has in mind: a headboard made of slim posts to which he uses that tie to secure you in place.

When he's done lashing your wrists, he lets himself track kisses down your chest, over your heart, even as his palms ghost over your torso with a reverence that is telling of how precious you are to him. ]

I love you-- [ kiss ] --I love you so much.

[ There's something beautiful in that takedown, so beautiful that it momentarily steals what little air there is left in his lungs. He doesn't shy away, and looks nowhere else but your eyes as you pin him down, as you tie his wrists to that headboard. He only really gets to breathe out once you start to kiss him, and that brings his gaze down to where he can watch you at work on his body, utterly mesmerized by the sight of you.

Maybe it's dark and a little fucked up, how all of this calms him down, how all of this will eventually get him going in a way entirely unique from your usual lovemaking. But you love him nonetheless, don't you? ]

[ If it's dark and fucked up from your end of things, what more is it that from his, this is something he feels that he can offer, that he's all too willing to explore if it helps center you again.

The tip of this iceberg of experimentation has had the groundwork laid out nicely -- impromptu moments back in his room, at his house, and then there was that exchange shortly after Brother Death's Hour when he, trembling, realized that he wanted you bound beneath him and pushed in ways he hadn't thought he could ever want.

One more kiss over your stomach, before he's pulling back and going through the mess of your clothes on that bed to retrieve the tie you'd worn to the party.

He's crawling over you now and leaning in to press his lips to your lips before he lifts that tie to cover your eyes. ]

Let me do this for you. [ Securing that now in place, his hands gentle as he wraps it all the way to the back of your head. ] Let me make it all better.

[ And he tips his head automatically, making it easier for you to rob him of his sight. When he's right and properly blind, there's a soft, relieved sound leaving his lips. It's followed by this: ]

I trust you.

[ So here he is now, spread out thin and perfectly at your disposal, and perfectly all right with this. The anticipation, in fact, is going ways towards rekindling the need in his gut and the fire in his lungs. Since he's exposed for the moment, you'll be able to see that. ]

[ He starts slow over your mouth, shifting the angle of his lips occasionally so that he can nip at your mouth. His hands are planted on either side of your torso, propping him up and making it easy for him to alig his body over yours: hips flush over your own, one leg pressed between yours.

That's a hand ghosting over your belly, kneading the flesh and muscle there with his fingers.

There's no need to rush tonight, and with you permission, he'd like to stretch this out as much as possible for you both. ]

[ And it's like you're drawing out the air that he so desperately needs in his lungs every time you kiss him, so much so that his lips try to chase after yours each time you break away from them. The tension running through his body is no longer from stress, but wanting too much, and it's building in his limbs, making them hum, making him strain just a little against the tie binding his wrists together.

There's a soft noise at the way you're touching him, eyebrows knitting, stomach flexing underneath your fingertips. It's like he hasn't decided whether he's content with this for the moment or he'd like you to do more. ]

[ Maybe you'll feel the way his lips curl at the ends, right before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth to worry at it as his hand shifts lower to knead over the muscle on the inside of your thigh. It is entirely too tempting to touch you where he'd like to the most, to feel you up and get you going right away.

But... patience, he tells himself. The night is still young and there's so much to explore with you arranged like this beneath him.

Have a sigh over your mouth now, even as he turns his hand so that he can caress your skin with the backs of his fingers. ]

[ It is good that you're carrying yourself with some modicum of control, because your fiance isn't exactly capable of that at the moment. That much will be obvious in the way he quivers and pushes a little more into your palm, and the pleading sounds that follow right on the wings of the previous one that he made.

This is the sort of distance that kills: where you're close enough to where he needs you to be such that he can feel the unique heat and weight of your skin right there, and yet... ]

You are-- [ nip ] --so beautiful.

[ That's sighed against your lips as he sinks closer into you and lets his mouth travel in a line down your chin, a little to the side along the curve of your neck towards the slope of your shoulders. His fingers are drawing idle circles along the inside of your thigh now, moving up occasionally towards your crotch just enough to skim along your balls before tracking a path back towards your knee.

Not yet, babe. Not just yet. ]

Mm...

[ The protest to this not-quite-touching is threaded up in the entirety of his body, the way he presses half of his face against that pillow, and the helpless flex of his fingers. Being blind really isn't doing him any favors either, because now he's solely focused on how you're handling him now.

It's going to bad when you eventually give over and touch him. This deprivation will ruin him. ]

[ And he's moved downward now, grazing teeth over your nipples after he presses agonizingly chaste kisses over your chest. There's a hiss on the inhale right before he rubs his tongue over the hardening nub, eyes flicking upward to watch you as he does so.

He's massaging his palm over the top of your thigh now and his erection is becoming something he can't exactly ignore -- but he can hold out. He wants to bring you down first, trap you inside your skin and make you feel as good as he can manage. ]

Ah --

[ That flinch? Definitely your fault. You're going to hear the way he swallows, feel how the tension's winding him up again, see him fighting for calm.

Those are his legs, in the next moment, attempting to frame your body and draw you closer against him. He really can't help himself. ]

[ That's only serving as further encouragement, because his breathing shifts and he's adjusting the way he's positioned over you to better fit against your body.

He's also moved his mouth over your other nipple and is using his tongue to trace circles around it. It's kind of fascinating how it's not as hard a nub as the first he'd lavished attention to -- but that's probably just how a body works, right? ]

God, [ he breathes over your skin ] you're so fucking hot.

[ The rush of your voice over his skin makes him quiver anew, and tug, once again, at his restraints. It's starting to get suffocating, being in his own body.

It's a difficult thing to consider, whether he wants those lips of yours up on his mouth, or if he wants you to keep doing what you're doing. And your hand still seems so damned far away. ]

Josh, [ Your name stutters on his lips, like a small and quivering thing. ] I need you.

[ That's all he ever needs to hear, really, to give in and switch up his plans -- or to stay his course.

He really, really wants you to feel good though, so the only response you'll get is his mouth tracking a path along the dip between your ribs and skimming his hand lower to trace the curve of your balls and tease around your opening.

Teeth scraping over skin now: ] I love you so much, babe.

[ His voice has pitched low and you'll probably catch the little hitch there. ]

[ That elicits another whine and a slight toss of your boy's head against the pillows. The rest of his body is squirming against your lips and your hand, urging you on.

The ache's in his gut now, and the pressure's building up in his brain, gradually rendering him incapable of doing little else but react to whatever you choose to do to him. There's something liberating about that. ]

Love you.

[ There is an edge to that whisper, fervent as it is. You'd recognize it as the kind of desperation one will only experience when one's caught in a situation much like your fiance's. ]

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

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