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

[ And that is all he needs in order to make him take that leap and let go of the shredded remnants of his control. Far and enough that you've made it a point to lavish such rough and thorough attention upon him, that the brush of those words over his brain were about as palpable and absolutely to him as physical touch.

It's your name that whines out past his lips when he cums this second time around, and yes, those are tears squeezing past his eyes just as the waves of this latest high crash over his body, leaving him writhing and trembling after each drag. He's a boneless heap of hot skin, quivering muscle and boy in the moments after, chest heaving from the effort of breathing and not getting enough air each time around, mind shattered by the pleasure you've given him.

Yes, he's still not soft. His own cum glistens against the skin of his crotch and belly; his lips are already bruised from the kisses that you have taken from them, and the marks of your teeth and tongue have started to flower on his skin. ]

[ You are possibly the most breathtaking, utterly beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on. And you are his. For as long as he breathes, as long as his heart beats -- you're his. His shoulders have curled around you now, following the line of your body as he smooths his cum-slick palm over your stomach. His free arm has wrapped around your torso, holding you up and keeping you close as he whispers kisses along your temple. ]

I've got you, babe, [ he sighs. ] I'm right here.

[ You feel of you slumped against him, all pliant limbs and warm flesh makes something click into place and he moves gently, rearranging your limbs and easing you down onto the mattress before he starts to pile a handful of pillows together.

His attention doesn't stray very long from you, even as he manages to do all that: his body covers yours, his lips meet your lips, breathing in the air from your lungs and offering his own for you to take. His actions in the aftermath of your lovemaking have always leaned towards tenderness, as if by touch alone he would like to lull you to sleep while he kept whatever nightmares you've had at bay.

He offers you that familiarity now, even as he picks you up, sets you back against the softness and the sheets, body pulling away just briefly enough as he tugs loose one of the bindings on those drapes, letting the curtain fall to obscure the view of one side of your room.

You are free to watch the way he's measuring that cord in his hands as he shifts towards you, weight on his knees. There's a look on his face: thoughtful, considering -- but he doesn't utter a word. Not to ask if this would be okay, not to tell you what he plans to do. Technically love, he doesn't really have to, does he? You got a pretty glimpse of it earlier. ]

[ There's no resistance whatsoever on this one's part, and no words. He seems content, as it is, to let you move him as he recovers, and only really starts kissing you in return once you have him on his back. Ironically, at that point, the attention you give him goes ways towards relaxing him. Maybe it's because such things are good distractions from how terribly hot and bothered he happens to be right now.

All of that comes to an end, however, when he finds himself staring up at the cord you have in your hands. The sight of you with that being measuring between your fingers is enough to make his throat go dry. He licks his lips, shudders over those sheets. He does not, however, move away. In fact, you're going to be treated to the sight of your boy's limbs starting to relax on those pillows.

His eyes are back on yours, and there is nothing in his gaze but you. Moments later, he's swallowing, and sliding his palms down his legs, hooking them underneath his thighs, spreading his own legs apart. A position of submission, all bodily cues pointed towards yielding.

You are free, of course, to move him as you will again once you've figured out what you want to do. ]

Edited 2015-03-04 16:04 (UTC)

[ He has, in all honesty, half a mind to indulge you both and take you like this once before he ties you down. Still, patience has it's merits. You'll see the tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth as he crawls over on all fours, his body covering yours as he kisses you full on the mouth.

His fingers are also catching your wrists, the weight of his forearms pressing your legs aside. He makes it a point to rub the bulge of his own erection up against your cock, hands making quick work of looping one end of that cord around your wrists to bind them together before taking the other end, hooking it along one of the decorative hooks on that headboard ( he noticed them; hard not to, since he does share this room with you ) and drawing it back to lift your arms overhead.

Withdrawing now to oversee his handiwork as his right hand rotates to wind the rope around his palm. His eyes are dark but shuttered. He's also tucking away his thoughts, experimenting with figurative doors to keep you from seeing what he has in store for you. ]

We'll take this slow. [ He says that evenly. ] I want to take my time enjoying you.

[ And his mouth was already opening before you could come around completely, lips parting to welcome your lips and tongue on his. You'll end up swallowing the small, pleased noises he makes, and you'll also end up feeling the way his hips roll up, to better let his own dick slide against yours in a bid for a little relief. Once again, though, there is no resistance. He knows, of course, that you're tying him up. It does not matter.

He is breathless in the aftermath of you ravishing his mouth and heating him up, his gaze faltering only a little as it falls back on your face. The anticipation is threading up in his arms now, tensing him up before he can help it. That's just one of the lovely side effects of this position. The other happens to be the fact that binding him this way forces him to arch up a little, thus pushing his chest up. Obediently, he is keeping his legs spread, not hiding away from you in the slightest.

Those telepathic doors you have placed between him and your thoughts are holding steady. They are also adding to the whole experience for him. ]

[ He keeps his hold on that cord steady, even as he shifts over you, bending low enough to breathe gently over your erect cock. No, he's not going to touch you, yes, there's a purpose to this -- and then he moves lower and lets his breath pass over your exposed balls, down to where your ass is only half-obscured by the sheets.

He keeps that up for a bit, stretching this out and clearly observing how you react to the almost but not quite contact. ]

[ His reaction is written out in the helpless twitch of his fingers, the breath he sucks in, the way his eyes immediately drift down to where you're going and stay on you. He shudders when he feels you breathing, pleasant and warm and so far away, over between his legs.

Swallowing again, because lust is a goddamned bitch that overrides his ability to function. That includes speaking. ]

[ He can feel the weight of your gaze on him, but he doesn't look up, just keeps at what he's doing alternating between breathing gentle warm air over your cock and down and back up again, his skin far removed from yours, his grip not faltering once on that cord.

And then he's leaning in close and letting his tongue lick one long, lazy line along the inside of one thigh, which he punctuates with the clamp of teeth over your flesh, his cheek brushing against your crotch. ]

Close your eyes. [ He murmurs that almost absently, before he goes back to worrying his teeth over your skin. ] Don't open them unless I tell you to.

[ Shuddering at that, stomach caving as his hips try to arch up and press more of his skin against your tongue. The whine that leaves his lips tapers off into a little gasp, and in the aftermath of that, his breathing has quickened. You would have also felt the resistance in his limbs, the knee-jerk attempt to struggle against the way you've restrained him.

At your request, your fiancee's lips tremble on the brink of protest. He wants, though, to obey you in this. As such, that lovely face of his is half-turning into the pillows, and he's closing his eyes. ]

Just ride this out with me. [ And that's a gentle nip over your skin as his fingers move to trace that patch of skin just centimeters from where he'd like to take you. He tracks a line of open-mouthed kisses towards your cock after that, fingers rubbing lazy circles all the way until he's teasing your entrance. When he finally starts to kiss your dick, the sigh that leaves him is reverent, as if he were worshiping your skin.

There's a thoughtful noise as he breathes over you, thumb now pressing up against you just enough for you to welcome the tip of that digit inside. ]

You know, I think I'll let you hold the cord, so that both my hands are free for me to have my way with you.

[ You're incredibly quick on the uptake, Hikaru. You holding the cord means that you're complicit in your own binding, and would therefore have you keep yourself in place as he makes good on his promise to make tonight all about you. ]

[ And it's like every touch of your lips or tongue on him drives more air from his lungs, leaving him dizzy and short of breath. It does not help, of course, that some of the breaths he takes end up tapering out into more whimpers, or shaky expletives that have absolutely no heat in them - not discounting the heat of his need, anyhow.

He is sweating in earnest now, writhing over those sheets from your ministrations. He is also quivering around the beginnings of your finger inside his ass. There's an earnest whine at your statement, matched with him turning his head towards the sound of your voice.

You'll be pleased to note, though, that he isn't exactly saying no. ]

[ The sound of your whimpers, of those soft mutterings under your breath prompt a quiet smile from his end as he withdraws what little of his thumb has pressed into you shortly after that final whine. Maybe you'll pick up the hushed laugh that leaves him -- he's enjoying this, he won't deny a minute of it -- as he moves over your body and leans in close to steal a hungry kiss from your lips.

His hands slowly maneuver that cord through your fingers, folding them over and around it with an unspoken command in the way he lingers a little longer than usual before he finally lets go. ]

Hold that for me for a bit, will you babe? [ His breath is warm over your cheek, and he lets the smile slip into his tone before he pulls back again to rearrange you over those sheets, your legs bent and pushed up close to your chest so he can stretch out and proceed to set his mouth on you.

If he sounds like he's enjoying himself -- it's because he is. You spread your legs for him earlier in an invitation, and now he's taking you up on it and eating you out with the kind of patience that mimics a cat playing with it's food. ]

Oh G--

[ Those words cut off into a helpless gasp, and matched with your boy's hips jerking up towards your face. The rest of him is arching into himself or sinking into the mattress, and the fingers you curled into the cord are now gripping unto it for dear life.

You're welcome to let him continue to try to fuck himself on your mouth and tongue, or stop him. You'll have to decide: he can't really help himself, just as much as he can't help the way he's moaning/whimpering into the skin of his own arm. ]

[ 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)

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

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