Title: Koji ma Oshi
author: Sol 1056
rating: NC-17 for sex, violence, and dirty mouths
warning: BDSM, psychological issues, post-post-EW
pairings: 2x1, 3x5x3, 4xR
Chapter Sixteen
Yes, he'd said. Yes.
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and kissed him on the ear. Then I lowered my hands and turned him around to look at me. I figured I'd get one of two things: either he'd be looking vulnerable and open--not likely, given the argument earlier, but I could be optimistic if I wanted to, damn it--or he'd be guarded, edgy, and uncertain.
It was the second option. Of course.
I ran my hands down his neck, shoulders, arms, to grasp his hands lightly, bringing them up before my chest. Heero's eyes were narrowed, his shoulders stiff, but there was a certain light in his expression... anticipation? I wanted to think it was.
"We've discussed limits before," I told him, calm. Yes. Right. I'm so frickin' calm right now I could rationally walk off a six-story building and be convinced it's a good idea--if I even noticed the ledge. Fuck! Okay, don't panic. Breathe. "I will not damage you irreparably, but I will push your limits. I will do nothing within the scene that cannot be undone, but I will push your perception of what I mean by that. Understood?"
He frowned--just a slight furrow of the brows--and examined me for a long moment. Then he nodded once, curtly.
"Good," I purred, and let go of his hands. "Strip."
Heero flinched--I guess he'd not been expecting that so soon--and took a step back. One heartbeat, two heartbeats... and just as I was wondering how much I'd have to insist or repeat, he raised his hands and began unbuttoning the shirt. It slid across his shoulders, down his arms, to puddle on the ground. His eyes had closed at some point, and I noticed his fingers shaking--just the barest amount, and anyone else might've missed it--as he undid the belt and button on his slacks.
Down they fell, followed by his boxers. He toed off his shoes, and stripped off both socks, leaving the clothes to lie in piles around him. Damn, he was gorgeous--in a lean, lethal kind of way. And being Heero, he didn't have his eyes lowered or even his chin down--he was staring at me, challenging. If he'd been clothed, I might've thought him impervious to what we were about to do. Naked, he had no way to hide his body's reaction.
His erection was as hard as a goddamn piece of marble and just as beautifully carved; his nipples were stiff, aureoles pebbled. I knew it wasn't from cold. I'd turned off the air conditioning before he'd arrived, so the late summer heat was building. Perfect.
I touched his chest, ran my fingers across one nipple, and he jerked away from me. It seemed an automatic response, and I smiled.
"Don't," I ordered, low and husky. "I'll touch you if I want to... and I do."
I paced around him, steady, letting my hands run across him, tracing scars and muscles. Skin twitched under my fingers; he was silent but for the moment I ran my index finger between his legs, up across the crack of his ass. Just the faintest gasp, caught in his throat, and when I came around to face him again, his cock was leaking, pre-cum dripping down the engorged head.
No, not gonna fuck him into the wall... not yet. Not until he begs for it. Then again, that was the real question under everything, wasn't it? Which of us would break first--him, to ask... or me, to give up on waiting and just take it. And that begged its own question, under that, even: which did he want? To request and receive, or to just be taken?
"I want... "
"To be someone's."
"Yes."
"To be protected."
"Yes."
"To be possessed... "
The right answers had been there all along; Heero himself had given them to me. I grinned, sharp and calculating. Heero's eyes went momentarily wide before he recovered, and I chuckled, pulling the blindfold from my back pocket.
Stepping around behind him, I lowered it over his eyes, and used the double strips at the end of the cloth to tie separate knots. One knot at the back would be uncomfortable--and too easy for him to remove. Slicing the blindfold so I had four straps--two knots--meant one went at the direct back of his head and the other down to catch on the curve at the back of his skull. I was rather proud of that adaptation, but I could sense his confusion about how I'd secured it.
I placed my hands on his shoulders, and guided him around, then pushed him gently towards the bedroom door. At the threshold, I pushed the bedroom door open wide, then moved to stand before him.
"You don't get sight. It's my responsibility to see for you."
He shivered, but remained tense--muscles were corded on his neck and arms. I knew he was holding himself in place by sheer will.
"You may speak. And it's green, yellow, red. Understood?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Tell me, then."
"Green."
No hesitation there... and his cock bobbed. I swiped my finger across the head of his cock and he pulled away, then seemed to snap back to himself, freezing in place. I sucked on my finger--loudly, so he knew what I was doing--and ran my hands up his chest. He started at the touch.
"You are not in control of what I do. You are not in control of what you do. It is not your responsibility to make decisions or determine the outcome of our play. It is my responsibility to see to it that you are safe. Understood?"
"... Yes." His answer was even quieter, if that were possible--and almost frightened, yet... I searched for a word that fit his tone. Not just anticipation anymore, but a guarded sense of relief.
Taking his hands, I led him through the door, and into the room. Five steps, and I guided him toward the wall, where I'd rebuilt the bed-frame so it was bolted to the wall. I'd removed the legs from the lower end and put them together at the top, making the upper end a few feet proud of the wall while the bottom end was against the baseboards; the side bars ran at an angle, creating the right triangle from hell. It was a strange-looking contraption, but it meant Heero wouldn't trip over the bed-frame, or have to stand with his feet on the bar. Nothing like a gear-head with a box of tools and a half-hour for making something new out of what was already spare parts in the first place.
I stood him under the frame, and eyeballed the distance between his shoulders the frame above his head. His fingertips would just barely hook over the top of the frame, I figured, and knew I'd need to position his wrists wider apart to prevent him getting leverage on the metal. He waited while I moved around him; his spine was straight and his legs were braced, ready to sidestep, avoid, maneuver despite his blindness.
I'd made straps out of cloth and ropes, an intricate but ingenious--and I complimented myself again, pleased--way of making sure he'd have a great deal of difficulty getting free. It wouldn't be impossible, but I knew the difference in tensile strength. He could bend steel because of the way the molecules worked, allowing that certain flexibility. He'd never broken steel--and that was the difference. The weave of fabric and rope worked in a very different manner, allowing stretch and give, but without the heat that steel would create in the same circumstances--the very heat that would weaken the steel.
As contradictory as it might seem, it would take him more effort to rip the cloth bindings than it would for any chain--and the angle of the straps would reduce his leverage on bending the frame itself. I didn't waste time patting myself on the back, but I was pleased nonetheless.
First, wrists tied; I raised the first arm over his head. He didn´t protest outright, but there was resistance in his muscles, an added weight as though subtly fighting my movements. It was still there when I raised the other arm to attach it to the overhead bar, and that time I pinched his nipple. He jerked his chest away from me; I took advantage of the distraction to yank his hand over his head, strapping his wrist in place.
Next, ankles. I worked slower now that his upper body was in place, pausing every now and then to run my hands across his body. His skin shivered and twitched; he never lowered his head. Spreading his legs, I tied each ankle to the bottom of the frame, and sat back on my heels before coming to my feet. I'd been between his legs as I did it, which meant standing pushed my chest along his body from thigh to chest. He brought his chin up, but I didn't miss how he arched his body to press against me, however minutely.
And one last thing. Two steps away to dig through the pile, and one step back with a long cotton strip, the entire length of the old tablecloth. He jumped when I touched his cock, and hissed when I stroked once, twice... and then began binding the fabric around him. Under the balls, around, between, forcing them down and apart, then up to the base of the cock, wrapped around and back again and down from head to root. When I was done, his cock was stiff, engorged--and swathed in a good quarter-inch of cotton. The head was exposed, and I took a moment to run my fingers across it. He made no sound, but his hands clenched into fists.
Yeah, he was looking like if I untied him, he'd punch me first, storm out second, and never ask questions. But where I recalled doubting the submissive--or myself--in other scenes... I didn't feel that, now. Heero could clench his fists and jut his chin all he wanted, fight back in passive-aggressive ways and even stomp his feet. But it was all show; he couldn't fool me.
"Gonna fight me?" I ran a finger down his chest, and dug my nails into his hip at the same time. He twisted, trying to get away from one hand, then the other, but was caught between. "Do it if you want, but it changes nothing. I'm in charge. You're not. Accept it or deny it, but... " I leaned in close, dropping my voice. "I know the score... and I will win."
He snarled and twisted away from me, but he really only had an inch in any direction, thanks to the bindings. I just laughed, because that would be known as Heero's competitive edge. And I'd been watching him long enough to know that the best results might come if I riled him up, before I broke him down.
Whether or not I'd realized it or acknowledged it before that point, in bedroom games I was undoubtedly dominant. I had been with my past lovers, and those rare aggressive lovers were given the lead only through my active choice. Heero had observed the limitations and boundaries I'd set, and never gone over them. It was not an act on his part, nor was it because he was scening in some one-sided way. He was simply more content to be submissive in emotional matters--but not weak. Not weak at all. Just more comfortable following my lead, and letting me be in control.
Well, damn. I stepped back to study his body, and felt all proud of myself for that moment of illumination. I also felt like kicking myself for being an asshole and not figuring it out sooner--let alone after two months of basically stringing him along--but I could admit I was a bastard. He was a submissive, at heart... and I was dominant. Time to stop worrying about it, and get on with being it--being the kind of bastard Heero wanted.
"You're unbelievable," I said, stepping back enough to see the entire picture. Heero, hanging there, feet wider than shoulder-width, weight mostly on the balls of his feet, hands caught above him. An X-shape, caught in the modified bed-frame, and muscles standing out in stark relief across his body.
I stepped forward, catching his cock between my thighs, and pressing my legs together while I lowered my mouth to his. He kept his lips shut, but I pushed my tongue between them, pleased when he didn't bite. I kept probing, and his tongue finally met mine, tentative; when I broke the kiss off, he swayed, lips parted as if to prolong it. Good. When I stepped away, he mewled deep in his throat, and I was tempted to fuck him, right then--it'd only been the slightest sound, and probably against his will, but damn. Knowing he'd even let that much out... made me weak in the knees and hard as fuckin' rocks in the dick.
I unlaced my boots and shucked them off, knowing it would take him a few seconds to figure out what I was doing; in the meantime, he was tensing and relaxing his hands and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Testing the bonds--and reacting to the uncertainty of what I was doing. Setting the boots aside, I checked the hot water in the pot--it had cooled, thankfully--and grabbed a wooden icing spreader and a long-handled spoon. Now for the fun part...
When the bowl clattered at his feet, Heero skittered away the half-inch or so he was allowed. His breathing had quickened, making his chest rise and fall rapidly. I swirled the spatula in the warm wax, testing it with a finger. Coming to my feet, I spread a dollop of wax down his chest, dragging it across his nipple.
He reared back with a gasp, but the most he could do was swing his torso an inch or two backwards. With my left hand, I popped him on the ass with the long-handled spoon, and he immediately arched forward. He moved right into the path of the spatula dragging a second sheath of wax down his other nipple. The beeswax candles had been blue and dark purple; they made a curious set of stripes down his chest, as though I'd cut holes through him to see the shadows behind him.
I gave him a second to adjust, then knelt by his feet. Wiping the spatula down one shin made him kick backwards with the foot, trying to avoid me. Drop the spatula, grab the rag; I pressed the length of torn fabric against the wax. It took only a minute to reach between his legs to do the back of his other calf, and again with the fabric, smoothing it out with my fingers. I did another stripe down the outside of each thigh, and rubbed back across the covering fabric, soothing him.
Now for the really fun part.
In one quick move, I took the fabric on his thighs. Caught it on the bottom edge--and yanked outwards.
Heero shrieked.
I nearly came from the sound: he'd been completely and totally caught off-guard. His hands weren't in fists, but grasping at nothing; his body shook--and I knew immediately that it wasn't the pain that had him freaking out... oh, no. Not the pain. Not for a man who could set his own leg. It was the fact that he'd not known what was happening, had been blindsided, and still probably wasn't sure...
So naturally I ripped the other two off while he was still getting his bearings. He arched his back, feet almost dancing across the rug in the few inches of leeway allowed. I let him try, then popped him on the ass with the long-handled spoon again. The beauty was that I didn't have to be behind him for that--I could reach around with one hand, and when he automatically moved away from the strike, I swiped more wax on him. Top of the thigh. Back of the thigh. Outside calf. From front of the ankle up to the knee... and each one covered with a strip of cloth and rubbed into place... then ripped violently from his body.
It took eight strips on each calf, and twelve on each thigh. I tracked the amount I'd made, and realized I'd have plenty of cloth strips to spare. He was shaking, though he'd not made a sound since that one reaction... and now his legs were completely hairless. I knelt between his legs and ran my hands up and down his legs, marveling at the sensation. It was... oh, there were no words for it. Sexy, yes. Sensual, definitely. But seeing him bereft of the dark hairs that usually coated his legs... I couldn't find words. I could only groan and run my hands up and down him.
Sweat dripped down his chest, trickling across the two streaks of wax on his nipples. I arched upward to flick off the wax, bit by bit, until I revealed his nipples, which I pinched, then flicked with a finger. He sighed, pressing his chest against my hands, and I grinned into the darkness.
"You're amazing," I whispered, running my hands, palm-flat, across his stomach and down through his pubic hair, scratching lightly. He tensed, and bucked his hips backwards, out of my grasp. I caught him by the hips and pulled him forward again. "I'm playing here... you're not in control of what I do. You're not responsible for my pleasure." I came to my feet, and pressed my lips against his ear; he jerked his head away, startled. I caught his jaw and pressed my lips to his, licking along his bottom lip before pulling back to smile at his blindfolded face. "You are my pleasure, Heero."
He moaned.
"I know," I soothed, and stroked his face, delighted when he tilted his head towards the touch. "Check in with me... what color?"
"Green," he said, no louder than a breath, and if I hadn't heard the word's beginning consonant, I might not have been able to identify the rest of the word. He swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, and tried again, but all that came out was a whimper.
"Good," I assured him. "You're doing well." I played with his nipples for a few seconds, while I spoke. "You're so gorgeous. Just watching you walk across a room makes me hard... but seeing you like this... " I leaned forward and whispered into his ear, throaty and threatening: "I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you until you scream."
He shuddered, head shaking a bit; he was recoiling. I caught him by the waist and dragged him back, digging my fingernails into his hips as I pressed him against me. For a long minute all I could do was kiss him, deeply, pushing past his lips and into his mouth until he submitted and began kissing me back. Damn, he was delicious, and he was all mine.
"You," I said, breaking off the kiss and knowing I was near panting, myself. Heero's breath was ragged, and his mouth moved soundlessly. "You're mine."
He froze, except for his fingers fluttering uselessly. I ran my hands up his arms, to clasp his fingers, and pinched at his palms. His hands twitched; good, still feeling in there, but I needed to get on with it before his muscles cramped. Check the clock: twenty minutes. Fuck, gotta hurry, without rushing. Okay.
His legs had been enough practice on applying the wax, and it didn't take but five minutes to cover his arms and press the cloth strips down upon them. He knew what was happening by this point, and for a few seconds he writhed in the bindings, trying desperately to get his arms out of my reach. I got him twice more on the ass with the spoon, then ran the wax down his armpits. That brought him up short, and he stiffened when I patted the fabric down.
I saw his chest fill with air--preparing himself. Before he could tense fully, I ripped the fabric away from his armpits. His incoherent shout filled the room and I tore off the fabric from his arms without pausing. He sagged in the bindings, arms shaking like he'd just finished ten hours piloting on manual. I chuckled again, running my hands up and down his hairless, baby-soft... scarred and battered skin.
I thought my dick was going to explode, hearing him whimper.
"We're not done," I murmured, and just to push him back to the edge, I ran my hand through his bangs--but he didn't jerk his head away. He nodded, and turned his head so my hand was pressed harder against his scalp. That was it: that was the moment of submission. He'd given it up, and I nearly fell to my knees, overcome.
He'd submitted. Completely. He was telling me if I wanted to shave his head by pulling his hair out at the roots... he'd actually let me? Holy shit... fuck... I had no words. I was stunned, but... ecstatic. What other word could describe the sensation of being transported, of knowing he was mine, he'd put himself in my hands, utterly. With that one action, he made clear he was giving himself to me. Fully.
"Heero," I managed to say, through rough breaths. "Yes... "
"Yes," he whispered, softly, hesitantly. He dropped his head, bowing it, and I couldn't help it: I kissed him. Hard. Passionate. Like I wanted to fuckin' eat him alive--but that could wait. I had one more thing to do.
I checked the bowl of wax. The water was cooling, and I had a few last strips--enough to take this all the way. I rubbed the head of his cock to distract him; in the half-light, it was as dark purple as the remaining wax. I stroked his cock-head while I slathered wax on his pubic hairs, and then down between his legs. Press the fabric in, rub it a few times, take a half-second to bless the internet for having all the information I needed, another half-second to laugh at my own thoughts, and then yank.
Heero screamed, back arching. His crotch must've felt like I'd electrocuted him--and I'd only tested on a small patch of my own shin to get some idea, but in such a sensitive area? Oh, what delicious hell; above me, Heero was making sounds almost like open-mouthed sobs, but more of shock than pain. I shushed him, and ran my hands across his body then back to the exposed skin of his crotch, bare except for a thin ring of hairs around the base of his cock. Some runaway wax coated the fabric along his cock, but that was no worry--that was the whole point of the modified cock-ring.
I pushed the wax bowl aside, and brought over the bowl of oil-based moisturizer. Hilde's favorite scent, and her preferred massage oil; I knew if there were such things as ghosts, she'd be pumping her fist in the air and cheering me on. I knelt between Heero's feet, dunked my hands in the oil, and then began kneading it into his shins, behind to reach his calves, up across the knee, inside of the thigh, outside of the thigh... up across his hips to his stomach.
More oil, and up across his chest, flicking off the last of the wax. Armpits, shoulders, collarbone, along his arms and elbows to the wrist... I brought out the knife from my belt, flicked it open and sliced quickly through the knots above his wrist. The bonds fell away into loose strips, and I caught Heero's hands, lowering them to place them on my shoulders.
"I've got you," I told him, and he just leaned into me, shaking. I sank down to my knees again--fuck, I was probably going to regret all that up-down stuff in the morning, some back part of my brain complained--but didn't move so fast he was thrown off-balance. His hands remained on my shoulders while I cut through the knots by his ankles.
Then I dunked my hands in the oil and came up his thighs, straight into his groin. One hand behind his balls, massaging his ass, while the other slathered oil everywhere I'd stripped the hair. He leaned over me, head hanging down, and his hips rocked against my hands--into my left hand, at the base of his cock, and back into my right hand, digging between his ass cheeks. I pushed gently with my hands, rocking him further, and he fell into the rhythm until I stilled him.
Coming to my feet, I wrapped his arms around my neck, and pulled him to me. He hesitated, then tightened his grip, and when I guided his head to my shoulder, he nuzzled my neck and moved close without hesitation.
I ran my oil-drenched hands up and down his back, massaging and rubbing, and he leaned against me. His hips jerked when I caught him by the ass, pulling his body sharply against me.
"We're going to move, now," I warned him, and he shuffled along with me as I led him--step by step--towards the mattress. I'd ended up putting it in the corner, covered with only a sheet. At the end of the bed, I hoisted him up so his legs were around my waist, and with a deep breath, I lowered us onto the mattress.
I ended up kneeling with him straddling me, and he never once let go. I ran my hands down to his ass again, digging and pressing along the crack, and he rocked against my fingers. His soft whimpers made me grit my teeth against another groan--damn it, I wanted him, then, right there, wanted to see him impale himself on my dick, on my finger, on my tongue--and let loose, forget himself, be wild...
Not yet, I reminded myself. Almost... almost.
I slid him down my legs until he was kneeling on the mattress, then shifted away from him. He started to make a motion as if to hold on, then sighed as if the last bit of intensity had seeped from his body. Shoulders in a relaxed, gentle curve, hands lax, chin lowered just a little.
I tore my shirt off, dropping it on the floor, and undid the buttons, removing the leather pants. I knew he could hear the rustle of leather and fabric. His head came up, as if curious but not so much he was worried or frightened. He simply waited.
"Heero," I murmured, joining him on the mattress. I pushed him backwards, holding him by the shoulders, supporting his head, and lowering him to the sheets. I crouched over him, spreading his arms wide, then ran my hands down to his cock. "This... " I untied the knot, and unwrapped while I spoke. "I've waited for this... "
He sighed, hips arching into my hands. I paused, taking the moment to dig around for the open tube I needed, pumping enough onto my fingers. When he'd relaxed onto the sheets again, I went back to removing the strips of fabric, careful to keep the lube from sliding off my palm.
"I saw you," I whispered. "The first night, that first day of working together. I went to your place, and I saw you leave."
He tensed, and I knew he was listening to every word I said. No doubt about it. I unwrapped a few more rounds from his cock, and paused long enough to stroke my own cock, slathering the lube down the shaft. I groaned, loud, holding nothing back, and his head came up, trying to see through the blindfold.
"Yeah... I followed you, Heero. Followed you to the club, and figured out what you were doing... "
"You... you... " Heero's mouth opened and closed, and he shook his head.
"I learned, and I studied, and I waited," I said, adding just a hint of cruelty. A dangerous note, the kind that says: do not fuck with me, or it'll be the last thing you ever see. It was enough to make him grow still, prey before a predator. "Because... " I finished revealing his cock, and began pulling the strips away from his balls. "I would make you mine."
"But... " He clenched his fists on the sheets. "I... I... "
"That's right, Heero. I'm not in the scene to play with others. I'm not in the scene to do anything but figure out you." The last of the makeshift cock-ring fell away, and I caught his leg behind the knee, pushing it up onto my shoulder. Heero gasped, and began pushing against the mattress, as if to get away. I ran a hand between his legs, rubbing the last of the lube, pressing the tip of my finger into him. Good enough.
"D... " Heero gasped; his hands scrabbled at the sheets.
"Don't even think about it," I warned, and grabbed his hips, dragging him across the sheets towards me.
I leaned forward, and caught his shoulders, pulling him up to straddle my lap. My back twinged, and I made a mental note to not do that again, but I was too busy undoing the slipknot at the base of his neck and tugging the blindfold from his face.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," I said, holding his face by the chin. He couldn't look away, could only blink at me in surprise. "Don't doubt me. I was at that club with Zorya not because I just happen to also be into leather and kink. I was there to find you. When you walked up, you were the only thing I saw, and the only one I noticed, and the only... Heero... " I sighed at his wide, frightened expression. "You're the only one. The one I want, the one I need, and the one I'll have. Mine. Only mine."
"Your... " Heero swallowed, and suddenly his lips did that tiny little shy smile, the one I'd thought of when I remembered our friendship. The smile so rarely seen; the smile that was truly him, fragile, hesitant, passionate, vulnerable. "You... "
"Me." I smiled, wider, and eased him back down.
He didn't struggle; he seemed too stunned to notice anything, stuck in a loop of staring at me with that startled, open-mouthed look. I kissed him, bending him almost in double to reach his mouth while his leg was over my shoulder.
"Mine," I growled, and pulled back enough to bite him on the nipple.
He moaned, and his hands came up to wrap around my neck. My braid slid sideways to land across the bed, the last two feet of loose hair flying everywhere. Heero twisted to stare at it, and caught the braid, clutching it tightly. Hair draped down his arm and across his shoulder, and I sat up a little more, lifting his other leg to my shoulder.
"Mine," I repeated, lower. Damn, I can't wait, hold on, hold on...
I held his hip with one hand, and my cock with the other. A finger along the length of my cock, feeling for his anus, and I was in position. I pushed forward, and the tight ring of muscle gave way a fraction. Pull back, just enough, push forward. Tiny thrusts, gradual, controlled, an excruciating torture of sensation, withdrawal, and push again... He whimpered at each thrust, and sighed each time I pulled away. His cock swayed, and I ran my hands up and down his hairless legs, mouthing his kneecap and sucking the inside of his thigh before repeating the promise.
"Mine, Heero, I'll do anything to make you mine--"
I thrust, and suddenly his muscles gave way and I was in.
Oh... my... god--fuck, he was tight. I panted, shallow fast breaths, and the blood rushed in my ears, heart pounding. I felt like I was falling into him, and he let out a long, ragged moan.
"Please," he said, and the word became a low keen. He threw his head back, unable to move his hips. His fingers dug into the sheets; fabric tore.
I had him firm, nails digging in to hold him still, while I struggled for lucidity against the sensation of his ass sucking me in. Gripping me, so hot, so fucking unbelievable--oh, fuck, if I ever were to die, forget self-detonation, because Heero's ass just shot straight to the top of the list--I hissed, and pushed in just a bit farther, dragging the moment out as long as I could.
"Please!" Heero's voice came up, a bit, and he arched his back. "Please!" Yet he didn't struggle more than slightly, holding back--through the haze, I knew he had purchase on the sheets and could impale himself, but no... he was waiting. He was waiting for me, he'd given me control. He was begging, but not fighting.
"Tell me." I held on, speaking through gritted teeth. "Whose... are... you... " I sunk in another fraction of an inch.
"Please," Heero cried, chest heaving. "Yours, please, yours--"
I rammed my cock into him, fast and hard, until my balls slammed against his ass. He screamed, back arching, and my ears rang from the cry. Pull out, slam in, and my vision dwindled, tunnel-vision on Heero's open mouth, exposed neck, hands white-knuckled on the sheets.
"Mine," I snarled, rising up on my knees. Every thrust--fuck, so close, so tight, so hot, so smooth--every drive, and I wanted to scream as well. "Mine," I said, and Heero's response was babbling, incoherent, pleading.
My own word--just that one--became wordless, nothing but grunts. Fierce, deep, into that tight ass that squeezed around me, a vise, a receptacle, an open waiting home and if I'd ever wanted to put a sign on Heero that said Property of Duo Maxwell, I knew I was starting from the inside out. Brand him, ram into him, and he shook, shuddering around me. I groped for his cock, stroking it in time with my quick, short bursts--faster, harder, holy fuck any second, boiling in my veins, everything drawing up, air sucked in before the backflash explosion--
"Mine, only mine," I said, the words no longer a promise but a fact. He gasped, whimpered, cried out with each stroke, and I tightened my fist around his cock, as close as his ass was around mine. "Tell me!"
"Yours!" Heero threw his head back, entire body arched, trembling, frozen, held up in the moment of orgasm and suspended. Thick, white jism across my hand, splattering on his chest and oh my god the muscles pounding in his ass, clenching in rapid-fire, so tight I couldn't move, catching me, holding me and I couldn't keep--
I shouted, swept away in the moment, and thrust again, quick, short bursts, pumping my cum into him. He moaned, almost sobbing, rocking with me, and gradually I slowed. My hair was tangled everywhere, and my sheets were ripped from the force of his hold--and somehow we'd ended up a few feet farther along the mattress and he was gasping, eyes open but unfocused, tears caught and glittering in his eyelashes.
I let his legs down, rubbing them gently, but I didn't pull out. I didn't want to pull out. I didn't care if my cock went limp for two days, I'd stay in him and wait and be ready... because fuck, for the first time ever in so long I felt like I was home, like I had found something and could curl up inside it and stay there--
My heart was pounding--hands trembling as I watched my fingers dance across his body, holy shit, I'd been drunk and stoned in my life and nothing compared to the sight of seeing Heero, panting, vulnerable, open, and fucking impaled on my cock--I thrust once, twice, and nearly shouted, but in surprise. Getting hard a second time, fast on the tails of the first, and fuck it all, maybe I will die tonight but damn if it's not the perfect way to go, damn it all--
I caught Heero under the armpits--those smooth, hairless curves of hard skin and muscle, and my cock throbbed in response. Pulling him upright, I held him close. He moaned, shuddering against me, then wrapped his arms around my neck with a lassitude I'd never thought I'd associate with him. But there it was: a fullness, a completion.
"I'm not done," I growled into his neck. He sighed, and settled down further on my cock. The shift in position tightened his muscles--nothing like kneeling to make the anus constrict--and I clawed at his ass, up his back and down his legs. "There's more."
"More," Heero choked out, a question, a plea.
"Yes," I said, and began to thrust again. Hips pistoning, and he rode each wave, face buried against my neck. Such muscles, such strength, and this power in his body was utterly yielding, letting me in. The jism from my first orgasm dripped between his legs, across my balls, slick, slippery--so hot, the warm wet, clenching muscles.
When I came, I bit down on his shoulder. He cried out, throwing his head back, and a second later he came again. Warmth spread across my chest, and he convulsed in my arms, muscles tightening spasmodically around my cock. I held on, riding it out, letting him ride it out, until he collapsed against me. Too much weight, off-balance, and I fell backwards, taking him with me.
He gasped as we fell, and I held on, cushioning his fall with my body. I was in the way, but that was where I wanted to be. Between him and whatever might rip him open, hurt him, destroy his walls he'd built to protect himself from those who'd take advantage of just how delicate he really was. I would be the only one to see that, the only one to know, the only one to revel in it, to blow his walls down and let him...
Yeah, just me. My cock slipped from his ass, and Heero buried his face in my neck, shivering. I kicked myself out of the glowing, floating state of euphoria, and pressed a finger into his ass, then two. Liquid ran down my fingers; my own fluids. Heero sighed again, muscles relaxing around my fingers, and I stroked him from the inside. He rocked against me, freely, moaning faintly, and I turned my head to kiss his temple, smoothing back his hair with my free hand. His body slowed, gradually came to a stop, but I left my fingers inside him, until he sighed and his full weight came to rest on me. I pulled my fingers from his ass and he tightened his grip, then loosened it again; his breathing deepened.
I had to bring up one leg to get the leverage to roll us over, and even then it took a minute to pry his arms from around my neck. His eyes opened, mouth working soundlessly, and I shushed him, kissing him tenderly on the mouth, the nose, the cheeks, the forehead.
"I'm going to clean us up," I told him, then stroked his cheek with my hand. "You have no idea... you're so... " A chuckle rose in my throat, and I let it out; his eyes widened in confusion, and I kissed him again. "I could never not notice you. Never."
"Oh," he said, and that was all. That shy smile appeared, pleased, satisfied, but innocent at the same time.
I smiled down at him, then extracted myself enough to grab the damp towel I'd left waiting at the foot of the bed. I wiped him down first, folding the towel over to wipe at some of the excess oil on his body, as well. Then I wiped myself, and the cool dampness on my skin was a relief after being coated in oil and sweat and lube and semen. I crawled over him to lie down on his other side, then tugged at him until he rolled over to lie on top of me. His head rested on my shoulder, leg and arm draped across me, and I held him closely.
We were quiet for several minutes, just me running my hand though his hair, and another hand up and down his back. He shifted, and I could feel him swallowing hard before he spoke.
"You've never been... in the scene... before you came back to Earth," he marveled. He seemed astounded, still, over that revelation.
"That's right," I replied, and smiled into the darkness. "It seems to be something you need, that makes you complete."
"It is," he sighed, as if apologetic.
"Shh." I smoothed down his hair, brushing his bangs out of his face, and tucked his head under my chin. "I chose to find out, so that I could be the one to do that for you."
"You do," came the reply, even softer. He was fading, drifting, and I knew he'd reached the final state of submissive headspace: warm, accepted, and free.
"From now on, I won't neglect you," I promised. He murmured something inaudible, but I could feel his lips moving against my skin. "I promise... "
"Yours," he said, and took a deep breath, then a second, and soon I knew he was asleep.
I felt tired, and drained, but at the same time, energized and complete. It took several minutes of staring into the darkness, watching the last of the candles gutter and flare before going out--and then I realized. I felt content.
Heero lay across me, relaxed and boneless, and trusting. And for that trust, I would stay awake--not only to revel in it, but to watch him, feel him, listen to him breath, and to run my hands up and down his smooth body. I chuckled, and even the shaking of my chest didn't disturb him.
Enjoy it while you can, I told myself. When Heero comes to in the morning and discovers the only hair on his body is on his head, he's probably going to kick your ass. Hopefully he'd be wearing the expression of the truly fucked, and would settle for a few glares and a handful of threats.
I grinned into the darkness, practicing my own post-coital smugness.
On to Chapter seventeen
Back to chapter fifteen