icarusalsoflew | Waking the Dead 2.0 || August 27, 2063 || Saturday

[ His hand is dropping away at that, even has the other is pulling at that belt and bringing you close, your back to his chest now as he lavishes attention on your ear, tongue tracing the curves and drips of it's shape, breath warm and teeth skimming gentle right before his lips catch.

You won't be able to pull away when he tugs at that belt again and brings your hands right over his own cock, your fingers brushing the length of him. You'll hear the way a hiss leaves him, sneaking past his teeth as he presses his forehead to your shoulder, other arm coming around now to embrace you so that he's flush up against you and you are flush up against him. ]

You smell so good, [ that's murmured as he licks a path from the crook of your neck to right beneath your jaw where he presses his nose to inhale the scent of you ( and him on you. ) He's also shifting his hips so that he's rubbing up against your fingers, while the hand of the arm that has you is finally drifting down to feel you up nice and slow. ]

[And there's suddenly too much for him to focus on all over again, given the way you're holding him, what you're doing, and how he can feel the shape of you against his fingers. He'd try his best to stroke you off all over again even while he's being held against you like this, but you've done a terrible (wonderful) thing by touching him.]

A-ah...

[That's a trembling sound that ends up getting swallowed, partially, by a valiant attempt on his end to get a bit more air. He's quivering in your grip once more, and now attempting to turn his head to seek out your mouth with his.]

[ And that's when he lets that belt go, so that hand comes up to curve along your throat; his lips catching your as he presses closer, hips rolling so that he's moving the length of him against your bound hands.

Those are his fingers tightening around the swell of you against his palm, the strokes heavier, firmer, just as his kisses turn more urgent with his tongue slipping past your lips, mimicking the way he'd like to move inside of you. ]

[And this one's face must be such an interesting study, as if the rest of his body isn't enough of one for you (with the way he shudders, with how his figure fits so perfectly over your chest, with how his skin feels against yours). His eyebrows knit in tune with the small, desperate noises that you end up hitching each breath he draws in, as if he's finding it distressing to feel this good.

The grip you have on his throat shouldn't have this sort of effect on him, but you're impossibly good at stripping him down and getting past all of his defenses, LaRue.]

[ Each kiss that catches against your mouth is greedy and full of want, his tongue chasing the taste of your lips as if he cannot get enough of you. His cock is also pressed right into your hands and brushing up against where he wants to put himself to take you both over the edge. ]

Tell me, [ that's spoken with a shudder as he tightens his grip around you, each upward stroke with just a little more pressure than the last. ] Tell me what you want and I'll give you everything.

[ It's a near-echo of the words you'd spoken to him before when this was all new. ]

[That's more than enough to make him sound helpless and desperate and all sorts of gone on you. It's been ages since he's been this exposed, this strung out, this perfectly vulnerable and needy.]

Please fuck me. Please.

[He's saying that, of course, even if he isn't quite as hard as you might want him in your grip. It's likely because you're driving him crazy.]

[ He could, he really could. But the thing is, Hikaru, the honest to Elaine truth of it is that he doesn't want you begging. He doesn't want you pleading and helpless because there is no need.

Middle ground. He wants you with him, he wants you to take him with you wherever that road you walk might lead. However long, no matter the road bumps. He will walk with you for as long as he can and then some. ]

Any other day, babe, I would cave, but not tonight. [ He's tracing his thumb over the tip of you and squeezing in a manner that is both tender and yet unyielding. You're not ready. He will take you when you are. ]

You never have to beg with me. [ A nip now to your neck, the warmth of his breath right under your ear. ] You hear? [ The scrape of teeth over the skin that strains over the tendon at your neck, the hand at your throat now catching you by the chin. ]

You tell me what you want. Order me if you will, demand it of me if you want to. At the end of it all I am yours and that's that.

Edited 2014-06-05 14:15 (UTC)

[The delicious contrast between who firmly you're holding him/the decisiveness of every one of your gestures and what you're saying to him is going quite a ways towards working him up. No, he's never experienced this kind of relationship before. He's never been given the privilege of surrendering without really surrendering, and meeting someone he loves near perfectly halfway.

He swallows in a valiant attempt to get enough air to steady himself just enough to respond the way he wants to. It works, to a point.]

Then get me off, then get me hard all over again so that you can fuck me properly. Fuck me the way that you want to. Go in deep, go in hard.

[That's murmured against your skin, and you'll probably see the look he sends you through the fringe of his sweat-drenched hair.]

Better. [ He's tilting your face away at that so that he can lavish attention on that glorious neck of yours in time to the way he's working you up to get you off.

No more words for now. Just his mouth in your skin as he feels you up, hilt to tip and down again so that he can cup and fondle you until you swell. His touch goes from heavy to feather-light, fingers tracing the curve of your balls and then moving up to apply pressure to the underside of your cock.

That's his tongue giving due attention to the curve of your ear, to the pulse at your neck.

That's his teeth nipping at your nape as the hand at your chin comes away so that he skims his palm over your chest, fingers tracing idle circles around one nipple and the next.

That's the press of him -- hard and ready and slick with precum ( yes, this turns him on so much you would not believe ) -- against your hands; the shudder that goes through him as he finally finds his voice again: ]

Touch me... [ His palm is tracking a path over your stomach now, following the tension in your abdominal muscles and massaging a line along the jut and dip of your hipbone. ] Just touch me. You can feel it, right? How much I want you?

[And he ends up filling the air with the gasp of his breath, and nearly each gulp of air that he takes in ends in a strangled sigh of pleasure. He's arched against your body, spread wide open both by choice and because of the way you're holding him against you, and his skin is hot underneath your touch. He's trembling because it's becoming near impossible for his body - hardened as it is by the lives he's lead, and the strength he possesses - can't handle the magnitude of the dark desire you're working up in him.

It's difficult stringing words together for him all over again. As such, the response you get is a half-broken, half-tight noise from his throat, and a nod. His hands, in the meantime, are covering your length as best as they can. Those fingers are working at working you up.

You're battering him with affection and bringing him down with kindness. He couldn't ask for anything better than this --

-- that is, with the exception of how you're going to pry him open, push yourself in deep, and bring the two of you so close together that it'll be an impossible task, figuring out where you end and he begins.]

[ He'll likely think on it later, how it's entirely possible that you could be free of that belt and his ministrations. There are those who don't know better that are terrified of the power at your disposal, by the title that the world knows you by, by a history that could put others to their knees. He can't say that all of that means nothing to him, because to say so would disregard the respect and admiration he has for you and everything you have done.

Still, when all those are stripped away, there is only you with the depth of your compassion and a generosity that sometimes trips you up, merged with the drive to bleed yourself to the bone if it meant that the people you love would be okay.

He's shuddering against you when your fingers close over him and there's a hitch in his breath as he moves against you. His mouth has moved now to the back of your neck, kisses pressed along the width of your shoulders, tongue tracing the curve of muscle cased in your warm skin.

The hand he still has on you is tighter now, urging you on, pumping you to fullness.

He wants you on your stomach when you're ready. He wants to push you down and open you up so that he can bridge the goddamn distance between you both so that all the lines that separate you blur. ]

Almost there, babe. I've got you. [ The room is becoming incredibly claustrophobic and the combined heat from your bodies is making him gasp for each breath. ]

[You'll never know, perhaps, precisely how those three words are a promise he leans so heavily against whether you're tangled together like this, or out on the field together, just around each other, or a phone call/message away. He has told you that he would kill for you, and when you say that to him, he knows that you'll likely do the same for him.

He has stopped thinking all that much about how your time together will be but a blink against the practical immortality that he possesses. You've branded his skin with you; you've written yourself on his thoughts, his heart. He'll carry that until the end of his days. He'll make what you do have count for every second, in as much as he can.

The tremor that soon runs through him is telling, as is the way he whimpers and buckles against your chest. He cums in the moments following that, covering your hand with each jerk of his hips, and every quivering aftershock that hitting that high sends through his body. When it's done, he's breathing against your neck, shaky and shallow, and hardly capable of doing much else beyond use you to keep him in place.]

[ The spill of you on his hand prompts him to hold you close, fingers gentling over your length. That's a kiss to your forehead as he finally pushes you down, palm still feeling you up as he whispers: ] I'm here. I'm just here, Hikaru.

[ He's pulling back for a bit, hunting up that bottle of lubricant and when he comes back, that's his hand smoothing over your spine, the nip of teeth on the curve of your ass before he exhales warm breath right over your opening. His tongue follows next, tracing the circumference of where he'll fill you soon enough.

Give him a few minutes. He wants to make sure you're ready for him; stretch you out with his fingers and pleasure you at the same time so that this won't be anything less than brutal pleasure for you both. ]

Edited 2014-06-06 01:37 (UTC)

[In that short moment that you're not covering him, this one's squirming a little from where he's on his stomach and knees, breathing open-mouthed over the sheets because no matter how much he works his lungs he can't seem to get enough air in him to make everything stop spinning or stop the room from feeling like it's closing in.

A hiss of pleasure disappears into air at the way you touch him again, though, and he quivers when you mark him. Then his entire body braces once your tongue starts to work at him, back arching, tension running through those limbs, fingers and toes curling against the sheets. All of that is coupled with an expletive that tapers off into a whine that he barely seems aware of.

Please excuse him if he isn't holding back from rolling his hips, trying to get more of you against him. You've robbed him of all ability to function beyond bringing himself closer to you, and letting you work himself up to yet another release that'll destroy him.]

[ He spends the next few minutes doing just that: eating you out and teasing you with his mouth before he squeezes out a generous amount of lube over is fingers.

He tries with two. It hasn't been long since he's put himself inside of you and your body seems to welcome him readily. He's moved those kisses to the small of your back, his other hand shifting your hips closer, letting his fingers move in and out of you as he covers you with himself. That's his tongue tracing over the artwork on your back, and then his free hand reaching to slip into yours as sounds that echo your own pleasure escape him.

Soon. He needs you soon. He can only hold out for so long. ]

[Given how much you've worked at him this evening, it should come as no surprise to either of you how easily he opens up, how there's no discomfort or pain. The only thing that hurts, in a manner of speaking, is the fact that all of this feels so damned good, as indicative of the way this one trembles beneath you, and gasps/moans/whimpers/sobs that get drawn out of him with every movement of your mouth and with the press of your fingers.

Your weight is a promise even as it's doing little else at this moment but drive him back up that wall, and stir up, yet again, the fire in his gut. It won't be long before he's right on the brink of coming all over again.]

[ He slows the way he's fingerfucking you right as a hiss passes between his teeth when you tremble and brush up against where he's hard.

That's him breathless as he buries his nose at the curve of your neck, the scent of your sweat, the heat of your skin and that distinct underlying fragrance that he's come to know as you making him dizzy.

He's curling his fingers inside of you before withdrawing completely and then gently guiding himself inside of you. ]

Don't hold back. [ That's murmured as he clamps his mouth down on that patch of skin right above the moon on your shoulder. ] I can take it. [ Sucking now on your skin, hard. ]

[And he doesn't hold back both because you asked, and because he's hardly capable of doing that even if he tried. Where he'd normally try to bury the way the moans that leave his lips escalate into the sheets, this time you can hear them plain as day, just as much you can feel the way the desire you've worked up in him is wracking his body with every new inch of yourself that you push into him.

There is little for him to hold on to, bound as he is, pinned as he is by the solidity of your presence keeping him against the sheets. Of course, that only means that this is forcing him open in a fashion that's uniquely different from how you've fucked him before, and even different from how you took him earlier when you held him down yourself. His hips roll, and his insides press even tighter around you, in an attempt at driving you to go deeper.]

Oh, God-- [ those words are practically ripped from his lips as he shifts to curl around you. He bites down harder on the flesh at your shoulder, hard enough to bruise and he trembles because he knows those bites are coming short of breaking skin. He does press kisses after though, his tongue chasing the faint indentations left by his teeth as he lets out a low, strangled sound from deep in his chest.

His grip on the sheets is also slipping, and his hips are bucking with less finesse because the movement of your ass against the length of him, tight as you are around him is making breathing more difficult and thinking even more so.

It's all instinct now. You feel so gloriously tight, so unbelievably warm, so painfully good that he needs -- and wants -- more; and those delicious sounds that you're making are only making the ache worse.

Forgive him, love, if the grip that comes around your length is not gentle at all, if his fingers are trembling with need even as he palms/strokes/squeezes. ]

Hikaru-- nngh.

[ That's whispered pleadingly just right beneath your ear. ]

Edited 2014-06-09 16:07 (UTC)

[Honestly, there's something also utterly wonderful about getting fucked this way because it's a not-so-subtle indicator of the kind of effect that he has on you: that he can rip your control to shreds even if he's the one taking it flat on his stomach with his hands lashed behind his back, that you are utterly lost in him. He'd be pleased more pleased at himself for this, if every part of him didn't already feel like it was burning up.

That, and the rough way that you're handling him now isn't a turn off at all. It's just driving him faster to where he really, really needs to be. It's also pushing him to move as best as he can against you, even if that's just going to claw a little more at his sanity.]

A-ah...!

[Yes, he's crying out for you and because of you. You wreck him with everything that you do, especially when you say his name/grip him tight/fuck him hard.]

[ He starts falling to pieces and he stiffens, when the movement of his hips stuttering and he muffles a cry against your shoulder, the pitch of his voice strangled and a touch younger in an echo of how you usually sound when driven to the brink. The arm keeping him above you is failing him, and Josh tries his best to ease the change in position as gently as he can, breathless as he is. He's half lying on his side now, and he's taking you with him, altering the angle of his thrusts as the hand around you squeezes you tight, the leg not pinned to the bed is slipping between and hooking around yours before he spreads you wide.

The thrusts are slower now and you'll feel the way he shudders with each upward stroke both around you and inside of you; you'll hear the sounds he's swallowing down even as they seem crawl up and out of his throat of their own acvord.

And then, the helpless whine as he is unable to hold back spilling himself into you, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he muffles a sob of pleasure into your skin. ]

[All of that is matched by how instinctive it is for him to follow you, to let your high become his own. It's also a mark, yet again, of how far gone he is that he doesn't hold back, that every centimeter of his body seems like it's trying to melt into yours.

He's shattered in the aftermath, quivering and breathless and boneless against your body. Each bit of air he draws in tapers off into quiet gasps against your skin. That is him, as well, completely covering your hand and splattered on the both of you.

Still, that is him seeking your lips out as best as he can. It's the only part of him that he can move without too much difficulty now.]

[ He's going to meet his lips to yours, even if he can't quite get enough air into him. You'll feel the way his chest expands and falls, the intake and exhale of oxygen a little too erratic.

Those are his fingers tangling with yours, and him shifting, as best as he can without jarring you from where you are lying against him so that you can use his bicep as your pillow. He doesn't want to pull away from you yet. He needs the feel of you against/around him still. ]

Hey, [ that's whispered against your lips, a smile tugging at the corners as his tongue teases yours. ]

...Mnh.

[That might sound a little cute, especially since it's coupled with the way he looks (read: 100% Strung Out, and yes, all of that is a bit of a tell on just how close he is to passing out on you). Still, he's indulging that kiss as best as he can. He can't get enough of the way that you taste.

And to think that he's lying against you, and you're still inside of him. There is something poetic to that.]

[ There's a warm and satisfied feeling that goes through him as he watches you look the way that you do and he smiles against your mouth before whispering: ] I'm going to untie you now.

[ The position you're lying in with your wrists still lashed can't be comfortable in the least. As such, he's going to pull away from you just enough to fumble with that belt and ease it away before he settles back and holds you close.

No words as he presses a quiet kiss to your ear.

Rest, love. He's not going anywhere for a while. ]

Waking the Dead 2.0 || August 27, 2063 || Saturday

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Riiight that tug up there is supposed to just have toes curling ahahaha orz

it works either way <3 also late /)(\

ishokay? XD

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