FIC: More Than God (3/4)
Title: More Than God (3/4)
Author: Daemonikk
Summary: Based on nanomites's prompt (#1 of 27) "Everything is for sale."
Rating: R, the most lovely of ratings.
Notes: Poor Rex. He tries so hard.
McCullen held Rex's hand to his lips, kissing slowly along the row of first knuckles, lingering just long enough to be sure Rex could feel the warmth soaking, one by one, into the joints. Their faces were so close now; he wished that Rex's mask was not so necessary. He could see the small twitching movements in Rex's single exposed eye, noting with marked interest the dilated pupil and slightly dazed expression. He held Rex's hand in his right, reaching with his left to cup the back of Rex's neck, holding him just a few millimetres away from touching.
“Thirty-two thousand,” he purred, unblinking, pressing his hips just a little harder against Rex's as he took two of those long, graceful fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking his fingertips as if he were doing something else entirely. Rex groaned aloud, forgetting himself, and McCullen's blood felt hotter at the delectable sound. In response, he sucked harder. He felt a certain twitch against his thigh, and fought the urge to moan as his own flesh responded.
Rex couldn't even remember to struggle, his half-lidded eyes trapped in McCullen's heady stare, his mind reeling from the delicious sensory feedback. McCullen's mouth felt scalding hot after so long with almost no physical contact whatsoever, and his tongue was so agile and clever... He couldn't help his body's response, pressed gloriously close against McCullen's leg. If Rex could have shown a visible blush, he would have done so. “...No...”
McCullen freed his fingers, smiling wickedly at Rex's pained expression at the loss of contact. “Anyone would think you'd enjoyed that,” he whispered playfully, subtly grinding his hips against him. Rex whimpered softly but still managed to glare at McCullen, refusing to move an inch one way or the other. He might not be able to control his body's response, but that was no reason to make things easy for him, was it?
“Or is it,” McCullen continued, running his hands up Rex's sides, lingering over the slight ridges of his ribcage, “that you like this?” Smiling his Cheshire-cat grin, he stroked the younger man's lean torso, revelling in the pounding heartbeat beneath his hands. He nuzzled his face into the neoprene mask collar, inhaling Rex's scent along with rubber, steel and a faint touch of antiseptic, drifting up to whisper into the remolded shell of Rex's scarred ear. “Is that it, Doctor? You like making me prove the seriousness of my intent to you?”
There was no response, just the slightly jagged but regular whisper-and-hiss of Rex's breathing, and a slight tension in the younger man's jaw. McCullen chuckled softly. “Very well then, Doctor,” he murmured, pressing his fingers into the taut muscles cording Rex's spine, “very well. Sixy-four thousand.”
“No,” Rex hissed, closing his eyes. Curse him, but that felt good. So good, he forgot to breathe for a moment, and his eyes closed of their own volition. A quiet sigh escaped him, and also a soft whimper before he remembered to stop himself. God, how long had he worked with his back a tangle of overstrained muscles? And how long since anyone had touched him...
Half-arched under McCullen's frame, bent back over the bench, his arms felt weak from the strain. Despite himself, they began to shiver, and how he wanted to sink back onto his elbows. But that would put him in even more of a compromising position, and he was nothing if not stubborn. Even now, when those devious fingers were being so soothing, easing his pain so very wonderfully. Besides, in that position McCullen would have to stop, and that would be quite a shame.
McCullen noticed his dear prey's weakness, smiling to himself. Now, things were definitely looking quite interesting. And, oh, that expression on the boy's face... Absolutely breathtaking. On a fit of impulse, he brought his lips to the edges of the doctor's mask, gently kissing along the sharp cheekbones. “You can touch me, if you need to,” he whispered against Rex's forehead, rubbing deeper into a particularly difficult knot just below the ribcage and being rewarded by a sharp groan. He held him pressed tightly to his chest, that hammering heart so close to his own he could almost hear it.
Another strong press into the taut flesh as he used one hand to guide one of Rex's to his slender waist. Another, and Rex clung to him willingly, the other arm clutching at his back. Rex didn't think about what he'd just done, or what it could be taken to mean. He just didn't want this to stop, not quite yet. He was still so tense. He needed mending.
McCullen cradled Rex carefully, securely. He was in his arms now, so nearly his. His heart fairly sang at the way Rex cleaved to him, a low near-constant groan purring from his half-ruined throat and fingers splayed against his back. But there was nothing innocent here, and he noted another of Rex's body's idiosyncratic pleasure responses. With a tilt of his hips, he could feel the hardening press of Rex's stirring cock against his own, both of them gasping at the clothed contact.
“I could be so good to you,” McCullen whispered breathlessly, moving slowly up and down over Rex's groin, timing his movements to match those of his hands working down Rex's spine. “One hundred and twenty-eight thousand,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Rex's vision swam with swirls of white behind his eyelids. So much sensation, it made him dizzy. Half-delirious already from his body's unmet need for greater quantities of oxygen, forgetting how delicate his lungs were now, everything felt the same; the excruciatingly wonderful waves pulsating up his spine from McCullen's slow grinding merged with the insistent touches on his back, bled through to the texture of McCullen's vest under his bare hand as he scrabbled and clawed. So much, far too much, and not enough. Moaning, he pressed his forehead against McCullen's shoulder, trying to gain some kind of grounding. “Mmph... No...”
“Breathe,” McCullen murmured quietly, stroking Rex's back. The contrast between the two simultaneous emotions of warmth and lust warred beautifully within him, one straining against the other in much the same way as his cock reached for Rex so urgently. He held Rex a moment, rocking him slightly and listening to his breathing become a little more steady. He lifted Rex bodily and set him on the edge of the bench.
“...Thank you...” Rex muttered, distractedly, his first real words since he had started, and McCullen noticed with pleasure that Rex's hands were still roaming over his back, mirroring his own movements slightly. It felt good, maddeningly good, feeling Rex's hands on him, even in such a small way as this.
He tilted his face down to look at him. Clinging to him, weakened, still showing traces of defiance but so, so close to willing. Rex moaned softly, nuzzling his head against McCullen's right shoulder and clavicle, and Christ, he looked so damnably, beautifully vulnerable. Careful, now. He'd been so patient. It wouldn't do to undo all of his delicate work. Kissing the top of Rex's head, he slid his left hand down to rest in the curve of the small of his back. The other hand drifted around Rex's side, slowly stroking his ribs and waist, drawing quiet noises of pleasure from the younger man.
“Two hundred and fifty-six thousand... And I could make it feel like this,” McCullen whispered against Rex's hair, making his voice all warmth and security, “if you prefer. For as long as you want. I could just hold you, like this...”
Rex lifted his head to stare into McCullen's eyes, checking for artifice, a mixture of indecision and frustration cutting through the fog of sensation and oxygen recovery. The comfort he felt at this moment was at once intoxicating and utterly too meagre to satisfy him; from the unabated pressure between both their legs, surely this could not be all he intended? To drive him just to the point of madness and keep him there? But, oh, on the other hand... If he were not feeling so very urgent, this closeness, how new and beautiful it might be...
He shook his head, “No.” He would not offer, he would not direct. He couldn't allow that, degrade himself for a momentary pleasure and a lingering sense of filth. But he did not move away, and McCullen smiled at that.
ONE MORE LEFT AFTER THIS Oh God my hands....
Author: Daemonikk
Summary: Based on nanomites's prompt (#1 of 27) "Everything is for sale."
Rating: R, the most lovely of ratings.
Notes: Poor Rex. He tries so hard.
McCullen held Rex's hand to his lips, kissing slowly along the row of first knuckles, lingering just long enough to be sure Rex could feel the warmth soaking, one by one, into the joints. Their faces were so close now; he wished that Rex's mask was not so necessary. He could see the small twitching movements in Rex's single exposed eye, noting with marked interest the dilated pupil and slightly dazed expression. He held Rex's hand in his right, reaching with his left to cup the back of Rex's neck, holding him just a few millimetres away from touching.
“Thirty-two thousand,” he purred, unblinking, pressing his hips just a little harder against Rex's as he took two of those long, graceful fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking his fingertips as if he were doing something else entirely. Rex groaned aloud, forgetting himself, and McCullen's blood felt hotter at the delectable sound. In response, he sucked harder. He felt a certain twitch against his thigh, and fought the urge to moan as his own flesh responded.
Rex couldn't even remember to struggle, his half-lidded eyes trapped in McCullen's heady stare, his mind reeling from the delicious sensory feedback. McCullen's mouth felt scalding hot after so long with almost no physical contact whatsoever, and his tongue was so agile and clever... He couldn't help his body's response, pressed gloriously close against McCullen's leg. If Rex could have shown a visible blush, he would have done so. “...No...”
McCullen freed his fingers, smiling wickedly at Rex's pained expression at the loss of contact. “Anyone would think you'd enjoyed that,” he whispered playfully, subtly grinding his hips against him. Rex whimpered softly but still managed to glare at McCullen, refusing to move an inch one way or the other. He might not be able to control his body's response, but that was no reason to make things easy for him, was it?
“Or is it,” McCullen continued, running his hands up Rex's sides, lingering over the slight ridges of his ribcage, “that you like this?” Smiling his Cheshire-cat grin, he stroked the younger man's lean torso, revelling in the pounding heartbeat beneath his hands. He nuzzled his face into the neoprene mask collar, inhaling Rex's scent along with rubber, steel and a faint touch of antiseptic, drifting up to whisper into the remolded shell of Rex's scarred ear. “Is that it, Doctor? You like making me prove the seriousness of my intent to you?”
There was no response, just the slightly jagged but regular whisper-and-hiss of Rex's breathing, and a slight tension in the younger man's jaw. McCullen chuckled softly. “Very well then, Doctor,” he murmured, pressing his fingers into the taut muscles cording Rex's spine, “very well. Sixy-four thousand.”
“No,” Rex hissed, closing his eyes. Curse him, but that felt good. So good, he forgot to breathe for a moment, and his eyes closed of their own volition. A quiet sigh escaped him, and also a soft whimper before he remembered to stop himself. God, how long had he worked with his back a tangle of overstrained muscles? And how long since anyone had touched him...
Half-arched under McCullen's frame, bent back over the bench, his arms felt weak from the strain. Despite himself, they began to shiver, and how he wanted to sink back onto his elbows. But that would put him in even more of a compromising position, and he was nothing if not stubborn. Even now, when those devious fingers were being so soothing, easing his pain so very wonderfully. Besides, in that position McCullen would have to stop, and that would be quite a shame.
McCullen noticed his dear prey's weakness, smiling to himself. Now, things were definitely looking quite interesting. And, oh, that expression on the boy's face... Absolutely breathtaking. On a fit of impulse, he brought his lips to the edges of the doctor's mask, gently kissing along the sharp cheekbones. “You can touch me, if you need to,” he whispered against Rex's forehead, rubbing deeper into a particularly difficult knot just below the ribcage and being rewarded by a sharp groan. He held him pressed tightly to his chest, that hammering heart so close to his own he could almost hear it.
Another strong press into the taut flesh as he used one hand to guide one of Rex's to his slender waist. Another, and Rex clung to him willingly, the other arm clutching at his back. Rex didn't think about what he'd just done, or what it could be taken to mean. He just didn't want this to stop, not quite yet. He was still so tense. He needed mending.
McCullen cradled Rex carefully, securely. He was in his arms now, so nearly his. His heart fairly sang at the way Rex cleaved to him, a low near-constant groan purring from his half-ruined throat and fingers splayed against his back. But there was nothing innocent here, and he noted another of Rex's body's idiosyncratic pleasure responses. With a tilt of his hips, he could feel the hardening press of Rex's stirring cock against his own, both of them gasping at the clothed contact.
“I could be so good to you,” McCullen whispered breathlessly, moving slowly up and down over Rex's groin, timing his movements to match those of his hands working down Rex's spine. “One hundred and twenty-eight thousand,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
Rex's vision swam with swirls of white behind his eyelids. So much sensation, it made him dizzy. Half-delirious already from his body's unmet need for greater quantities of oxygen, forgetting how delicate his lungs were now, everything felt the same; the excruciatingly wonderful waves pulsating up his spine from McCullen's slow grinding merged with the insistent touches on his back, bled through to the texture of McCullen's vest under his bare hand as he scrabbled and clawed. So much, far too much, and not enough. Moaning, he pressed his forehead against McCullen's shoulder, trying to gain some kind of grounding. “Mmph... No...”
“Breathe,” McCullen murmured quietly, stroking Rex's back. The contrast between the two simultaneous emotions of warmth and lust warred beautifully within him, one straining against the other in much the same way as his cock reached for Rex so urgently. He held Rex a moment, rocking him slightly and listening to his breathing become a little more steady. He lifted Rex bodily and set him on the edge of the bench.
“...Thank you...” Rex muttered, distractedly, his first real words since he had started, and McCullen noticed with pleasure that Rex's hands were still roaming over his back, mirroring his own movements slightly. It felt good, maddeningly good, feeling Rex's hands on him, even in such a small way as this.
He tilted his face down to look at him. Clinging to him, weakened, still showing traces of defiance but so, so close to willing. Rex moaned softly, nuzzling his head against McCullen's right shoulder and clavicle, and Christ, he looked so damnably, beautifully vulnerable. Careful, now. He'd been so patient. It wouldn't do to undo all of his delicate work. Kissing the top of Rex's head, he slid his left hand down to rest in the curve of the small of his back. The other hand drifted around Rex's side, slowly stroking his ribs and waist, drawing quiet noises of pleasure from the younger man.
“Two hundred and fifty-six thousand... And I could make it feel like this,” McCullen whispered against Rex's hair, making his voice all warmth and security, “if you prefer. For as long as you want. I could just hold you, like this...”
Rex lifted his head to stare into McCullen's eyes, checking for artifice, a mixture of indecision and frustration cutting through the fog of sensation and oxygen recovery. The comfort he felt at this moment was at once intoxicating and utterly too meagre to satisfy him; from the unabated pressure between both their legs, surely this could not be all he intended? To drive him just to the point of madness and keep him there? But, oh, on the other hand... If he were not feeling so very urgent, this closeness, how new and beautiful it might be...
He shook his head, “No.” He would not offer, he would not direct. He couldn't allow that, degrade himself for a momentary pleasure and a lingering sense of filth. But he did not move away, and McCullen smiled at that.
ONE MORE LEFT AFTER THIS Oh God my hands....