(no subject)
I dreamt of the feverish flesh and chocolate. The sex, I understood. It was perfectly normal for a teenage boy to dream of sex (even if one’s perverted old man continuously try to deter his son with magazines of those jiggling globes of fat).
However…chocolate?
Now this is new.
Usually, I dream of sex and drinking Ponta after sex. If I’m particularly hungry, I dream of something fulfilling, like burgers or hotdogs, something with meat on them. I never dream of chocolate.
Until today, that is.
I don’t even like chocolate. The smell is okay. It’s the taste…or texture rather…that keeps me from eating them except in minute doses. It’s the way it melts in your mouth only to cloyingly cling to your lips, tongue, teeth, to the caverns of your mouth, to the back your throat with that thick, velvety texture that makes you salivate for more…
The way you swirl your tongue, the way you suck and swallow the melted, saliva-lubricated morsel down your throat; the way your tongue battles against another in a heady fight for dominance-wait…what?
I dream of sex. I’ve never dreamt of kissing.
I slowly force myself to focus and I find myself willingly, almost wantonly responding to the… yes, the invading tongue inflaming the senses of my now overly sensitized mouth. I must have eaten something spicy (not that I can recall), for it was the only way I can describe the gentle dancing that’s happening in my mouth. The Mouth That Was Not Mine worked well with the slight tingles inside my mouth; together, they created havoc upon my senses.
And it was not only my mouth they were creating havoc upon.
I moaned. I was already aroused. The Face attached to The Mouth must have seen, if not felt it, if that analyzing ‘hmm’ was anything to go by. My skin flushed at the sound; out of embarrassment or of something else, I wasn’t so sure.
Not that I was given much time to ponder.
Something extremely soft slightly traced the line of my jaw before moving down to trace my neck and my collarbone. I shuddered in pleasure. What was it? Something ticklish, something fine. A feather? Perhaps hair? No, there was too much pressure for it to be just a feather or lock of hair. I tried reaching out to touch it with my fingers only to find out that my arms were restrained. A couple of experimental tugs revealed to me that while it was loose enough to be comfortable, it was not loose enough for me to reach out towards my torturer and his tickling device. I growled.
The exhalation from his amused chuckles by my left ear sent shivers down my spine to travel lower and lower and…Fuck! My hips gave an involuntary jerk at the slightest of touches. The slightly rough fabric of his clothing grazed my skin, my twitching erection.
That was when I realized that I was completely bare before him. My body tensed. I chased away the clouds out of my pleasure-laden brain and got defensive. The fact that someone is about to rape me finally broke through the haze. I opened my eyes only to see nothing. Darkness engulfed everything. If my head had been clearer, I would have noticed that the room was not only simply dark; I was blindfolded. As such, the disorientation did not leave me; though it left me afraid.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
His response was a gentle kiss. I could feel his lips curving upwards against my own. “I am who I am.” His voice was soft and lilting. Familiar. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” A trail of feather-light kisses made its way down my jaw, my neck, my shoulders, only to come back at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I startled as he lightly snapped his teeth onto my flesh. The soothing suck he gave the aching spot was almost apologetic. “Hard.”
For some reason, that did not alleviate my fear. In fact, it elevated it. If he wasn’t going to bite me, what other things will he do to me?
Who is this person?
I took a deep breath. Calm down. Think. You’ll get nowhere if you panic. Who would be sadistic enough to go through all this? Fuji was the first one to flash through my mind. But…“I don’t bite…hard.” A shot of dread and adrenaline pooled down to my stomach. No, Fuji liked marking his vic-lovers. A set of hickeys that would last for at least a week was his modus operandi. “I don’t bite…hard.”
”You’re not Fuji-sempai.”
He laughed. An uninhibited laugh of amusement and delight. I shuddered with his shaking body. I might be terrified but I’m also terribly sensitive. And aroused. Every shake I felt his body, his heat, with clarity.
“No,” he chuckled. “Fuji Syuusuke can only dream of what I am planning to do with you.”
...and as you can see, that's about when my English prof destroyed wagahai no bigi my discourse.
Want me to continue?
However…chocolate?
Now this is new.
Usually, I dream of sex and drinking Ponta after sex. If I’m particularly hungry, I dream of something fulfilling, like burgers or hotdogs, something with meat on them. I never dream of chocolate.
Until today, that is.
I don’t even like chocolate. The smell is okay. It’s the taste…or texture rather…that keeps me from eating them except in minute doses. It’s the way it melts in your mouth only to cloyingly cling to your lips, tongue, teeth, to the caverns of your mouth, to the back your throat with that thick, velvety texture that makes you salivate for more…
The way you swirl your tongue, the way you suck and swallow the melted, saliva-lubricated morsel down your throat; the way your tongue battles against another in a heady fight for dominance-wait…what?
I dream of sex. I’ve never dreamt of kissing.
I slowly force myself to focus and I find myself willingly, almost wantonly responding to the… yes, the invading tongue inflaming the senses of my now overly sensitized mouth. I must have eaten something spicy (not that I can recall), for it was the only way I can describe the gentle dancing that’s happening in my mouth. The Mouth That Was Not Mine worked well with the slight tingles inside my mouth; together, they created havoc upon my senses.
And it was not only my mouth they were creating havoc upon.
I moaned. I was already aroused. The Face attached to The Mouth must have seen, if not felt it, if that analyzing ‘hmm’ was anything to go by. My skin flushed at the sound; out of embarrassment or of something else, I wasn’t so sure.
Not that I was given much time to ponder.
Something extremely soft slightly traced the line of my jaw before moving down to trace my neck and my collarbone. I shuddered in pleasure. What was it? Something ticklish, something fine. A feather? Perhaps hair? No, there was too much pressure for it to be just a feather or lock of hair. I tried reaching out to touch it with my fingers only to find out that my arms were restrained. A couple of experimental tugs revealed to me that while it was loose enough to be comfortable, it was not loose enough for me to reach out towards my torturer and his tickling device. I growled.
The exhalation from his amused chuckles by my left ear sent shivers down my spine to travel lower and lower and…Fuck! My hips gave an involuntary jerk at the slightest of touches. The slightly rough fabric of his clothing grazed my skin, my twitching erection.
That was when I realized that I was completely bare before him. My body tensed. I chased away the clouds out of my pleasure-laden brain and got defensive. The fact that someone is about to rape me finally broke through the haze. I opened my eyes only to see nothing. Darkness engulfed everything. If my head had been clearer, I would have noticed that the room was not only simply dark; I was blindfolded. As such, the disorientation did not leave me; though it left me afraid.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
His response was a gentle kiss. I could feel his lips curving upwards against my own. “I am who I am.” His voice was soft and lilting. Familiar. “Don’t worry. I don’t bite.” A trail of feather-light kisses made its way down my jaw, my neck, my shoulders, only to come back at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I startled as he lightly snapped his teeth onto my flesh. The soothing suck he gave the aching spot was almost apologetic. “Hard.”
For some reason, that did not alleviate my fear. In fact, it elevated it. If he wasn’t going to bite me, what other things will he do to me?
Who is this person?
I took a deep breath. Calm down. Think. You’ll get nowhere if you panic. Who would be sadistic enough to go through all this? Fuji was the first one to flash through my mind. But…“I don’t bite…hard.” A shot of dread and adrenaline pooled down to my stomach. No, Fuji liked marking his vic-lovers. A set of hickeys that would last for at least a week was his modus operandi. “I don’t bite…hard.”
”You’re not Fuji-sempai.”
He laughed. An uninhibited laugh of amusement and delight. I shuddered with his shaking body. I might be terrified but I’m also terribly sensitive. And aroused. Every shake I felt his body, his heat, with clarity.
“No,” he chuckled. “Fuji Syuusuke can only dream of what I am planning to do with you.”
...and as you can see, that's about when my English prof destroyed wagahai no bigi my discourse.
Want me to continue?