Gentle impulsion

[forthedog]

It's been a long time since he's done this. In some sense he's never done this.

He's had Eostre bound, blindfolded. He's been bound by her in his turn. And there had been the afternoon in her hut, with the belt, with Tom on his knees. And long before that there had been other times, times with a lot less warmth and a lot more disconnect. They hadn't been bad, not really, but they hadn't been close to this.

Or to what he imagines this could be.

It's close to half an hour since he'd left Tom in the compound. He's sitting on his bed, facing the door and waiting. Next to him is a coil of rope, his belt, his hunting knife. He's not sure what he'll use. Maybe he'll use none of it, this time. But he wants Tom to see them, as best he can in the flickering light of the two candles burning in saucers on the makeshift table beside the bed. If he doesn't use them, he wants Tom to be aware that he can. Anytime.

He realizes that it's a lot, that they haven't done much in this vein since the first baby steps that one afternoon weeks ago, that Tom might simply turn and leave if it's too much.

It's a risk he's willing to take, now. He curls his hands into loose fists and waits.

Comments

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

Hobbes makes a high pitched noise that he didn't intend to make, reedy, small. His mouth opened a little, but his eyes stayed clothed.

"I want you to make me come."

Not quite so beseeching as a request, no. It almost felt more like a demand.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He stops at the bed. He's staring down at Tom, lying there with his hand on his cock, fucking displaying himself, and for just a second he can't do or say or think anything at all.

He'd had no idea. No. Fucking. Idea. Before, when he'd thought about Hobbes and sex (and Sophie, because that was kind of part of the package) he'd thought about things being disgustingly romantic and sweet, with enough candles to burn a house down and scented oils and probably some goddamn rose petals.

Not this. He leans down, slow, hands on either side of Hobbes's hips. He leans in close enough for their lips to almost brush. He doesn't touch him.

"Too fucking bad," he murmurs. "'Cause that's not gonna happen."

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

Once, there were rose petals and candles, once there was a blanket in a cornfield and a midsummer sky. Once, once...

There were things that were cherished and not forgotten, and here, now, love is the same but sex is different. As good. Better? Maybe. Sex before never touched him this deeply. Sophie was warm and soft, and year, there had been scented oils, and it made him feel like his heart was going to explode.

With Mike, like this...it feels like someone is dragging a finger down his bones. He's never felt so trusting and, beneath is all, so fucking cherished.

"You're going to Eostre's," Hobbes accused, resisting the urge to lean up in the kiss. "I can make myself come thinking about you, and there's nothign you can do to stop me."

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Why would I want to?" He smiles, thin and mean and amused, and underneath it, warm. Because God, he loves this. It's sweet and dirty and he does, and what send it rocketing into an entirely new level is that Tom so clearly loves it too.

He glances down at Tom's hand, at the slick head of his dick poking out of the end of his fist. He licks his lips. It's a slip, but he does.

"Don't let me stop you. Seriously."

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

Hobbes' mouth drops further open and his eyes drop closed and he arches...one long sigh.

"Like I was gonna let you..." he says, looking at him from beneath his lashes. "You coming or going, PInocchio?"

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"You aren't gonna 'let' me do anything, dick," he murmurs, so close, close enough to feel soft puffs of breath on his face. Tom's hand is almost touching his belly. "You think I walked back in here just because you wanted me to? Don't flatter yourself."

He smiles, and when he does his teeth show. "You're coming, I think," he says, musingly.

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

It's the voice and the closeness that does it, really. Suddenly, his hand is moving very fast, tight. His back arches reflexivly and his hand rubs Mike's stomach as he jerks himself, mouth searching blindly for a kiss.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

So he'd been kind of lying. And it's a safe bet that whatever part of Hobbes's brain that's still capable of rational thought is aware of this. Of course he's here because Hobbes wants him. He'd never have turned around when he did otherwise. He wouldn't fucking be here now. He wouldn't be lifting a hand to gently cup Tom's face as he erases the last centimeter of distance between their mouths.

It's all for him. All of it. It always has been.

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

He can't hold it back any more, not the need, the fear, the uncertainty that had made this so unknown and so, so complete. Hobbes groaned brokenly into the kiss and jerked against Mike, spilling over his own hands and onto Mike's stomach.

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

He feels it approaching a second before it arrives and his hand tightens, holding him closer and bracing him for it, holding him there while he rides it through until it leaves him gasping, and slowly he lets his hand fall away. He stays there, bent over Hobbes and the bed, staring down at him.

He glances down at his shirt, at the wet spot on his stomach, and the corner of his mouth curls. "Now look what you did."

[out-of-realm.livejournal.com]

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, Hobbes sat up, leaning forward to kiss Mike slowly, with gratitude. He rubbed one hand down his side.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

[m-pinocchio.livejournal.com]

"Absolutely nothing." He reaches up again and strokes his fingers through short, fine hair. He tilts his head up and ghosts a kiss against Hobbes's forehead. "You stay here," he murmurs. "Get some sleep. I'll come back."