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. ]
[ 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. ]
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[ 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.
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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. ]
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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? ]
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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.
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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?
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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. ]
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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? ]