fic: "Trapped Breath"
...I have no excuse for this. It's not my kink, it's not Capell's kink, it's just. er. >->;
PWP, TWT, WTF, BBQ. ~1500 words, not worksafe, Edward/Capell, no canon knowledge required, just an interest in boys wearing corsets. sob.
Trapped Breath
Damask looks so fancy, so smooth, that Capell never would have expected it to feel like this -- he splays his fingers across the tight row of hooks down the corset's center, traces one sturdy rib of the boning with his fingertips. "I feel like I'm hardly breathing," he says. His voice sounds thin and strange. He can't imagine trying to play with his lungs trapped this way.
"Too much?" Ed asks. His hands pause in the act of tightening the corset's laces.
Capell tries breathing a little more, feeling the way his shoulders have to rise and fall since his chest can't expand and contract. He shakes his head. "I don't think so," he says.
Ed pulls the laces tighter at his waist, so Capell staggers and has to clutch at a bedpost for balance. "Good," he says. He ties them -- finally satisfied they're tight enough -- and wraps his hands around the strange new curve of Capell's waist. They feel warm even though the thick layers of the fabric. "Look up."
Capell looks, meets his own eyes in the mirror. The damask shimmers, silvery as new armor, molding him into a shape that's not his own -- his limbs look longer, somehow, with his waist cinched in like this, with the curve to his shape that doesn't belong there. And having the corset on makes him feel more exposed than he did when he was naked -- like he's on display, like everything the corset doesn't cover is vulnerable. When he looks past his own reflection he can see Ed, behind him, watching him hungrily.
"You really like it," he says.
Ed nods, still meeting Capell's eyes in the glass. "You wear it well," he says. His hand slides down from Capell's waist to the lower edge of the corset, the line where fabric presses against bare flesh. He follows that line with his fingers, and it feels more sensitive than usual, being touched. His hand slides forward, to the center point where the corset dips in a point and meets the thin trail of red hair leading down to Capell's cock.
"Oh," Capell says, feeling a flush spread over his skin, his cock stirring. Just being put into the corset hadn't seemed that exciting. But now, watching the heat in Ed's eyes and feeling that careful, attentive touch -- "Please," he says.
When Ed moves, the ends of the corset laces brush the bare skin of Capell's ass and he feels exposed all over again. But Ed doesn't take hold of his cock -- instead he runs his hands up, along the bones of the corset, to trace its top edge next. The fabric stops just below Capell's nipples, and Ed's hands brush there -- gently, the first time, and then harder, a scrape of nails, when the first touch makes Capell's trapped breath catch and stutter.
"Yes," Ed murmurs against the back of Capell's neck, and his breath is warm but Capell shivers all the same. Edward hasn't touched his cock, hasn't touched his ass except by accident, but he's getting hard anyway. "You look -- even better than I imagined," Ed says. He presses his lips to the nape of Capell's neck, rubs his cheek against Capell's shoulder. "Will you let me take you like this?"
Capell tries to take a deep breath, and can't. "I -- I don't think I can move very much with this on," he says.
Ed smiles -- and Capell's still getting used to seeing that at all, much less with this flirtatious warmth to it. "You can still spread your legs, can't you?"
"Oh," Capell says. "Oh." He keeps one hand on the bedpost and shifts his stance, spreading his legs a little wider. "You want to -- to just do it like this?"
"Like this," Ed says. He slides his hands down to Capell's hips and turns him so he's not facing the mirror straight on anymore. Capell moves obediently, letting Ed's hands mold him, bending at the waist and wrapping both hands around the carved wood of the bedpost and leaning into it. "Look at yourself," Ed says.
Capell looks over at the mirror. He looks wanton, inviting, his back arched and his ass held out so -- Ed runs his hands up the backs of Capell's thighs, so gentle it's almost unbearable, and the way Capell can't help squirming only makes him seem more like he's asking for it. "Ed," he says.
"Say yes," Ed says, waiting there, his fingertips stroking the crease of Capell's thighs so lightly.
It's hard to tell if that's a demand or not. Capell doesn't really care. "Yes," he says. He feels short of breath and almost dizzy, but Ed wants him and that feels good.
And there's -- there's a limit to how much he trusts Ed, trusts anyone, with really serious stuff, but he's getting used to the idea that he can trust Ed with this, at least. Ed's hands are careful, more gentle than Capell would ever have expected, slicking him up with oil and stretching him open with slow, easy strokes. Capell pushes back, holding onto the bedpost for balance, and his chest heaves, rising out of the confines of the corset. He'd reach for his cock if he thought he'd be able to keep his balance at all, but everything feels so precarious like this. "Ready," he says, when he doesn't want to wait anymore.
Ed makes a low growling sound against the nape of Capell's neck, and Capell shivers. He feels Ed's fingers slide free, and then the head of Ed's cock replacing them. "Don't forget to breathe," Ed says.
Capell has to laugh. "I'm trying," he says, and he's already dizzy but that's okay. He takes as deep a breath as he can, and then Ed pushes, and Capell gives it all back in a moan. He feels so full, like there can't possibly be enough room inside him -- not enough room to breathe, much less enough for the thick heat of Ed's cock, but it slides in anyway, so much, so big, so good. "Ed," Capell whispers, and he doesn't dare move -- it's all he can do to hold still and keep his balance -- "Ed --"
"It's okay," Ed says. "I got you," and Capell smiles at him in the mirror because that's just like him, not as tough as he pretends to be, when it matters. He's moving really slowly, like he doesn't want it to be too much for either of them -- and then, finally, he does touch Capell's cock and that's really, really nice.
Capell doesn't try to be quiet -- if he's making noise he'll have to keep breathing, right? Even if he doesn't really have enough room to move. Ed presses up against his back, wraps his other arm around Capell's cinched waist to hold him close. It's weird, but good, those short strokes and Capell's short breath and everything, really, in those quick measured doses -- staccato -- and he'll try to tell Ed about that later, when he has the breath to spare, but right now it's all he can do to hold onto the bedpost and try to stay on his feet until all the little tremors come together into one big one and being breathless doesn't matter at all.
When he's done, Ed stops moving. Capell looks back over his shoulder. "Did you?"
Ed smiles sheepishly. "A little before you did," he says. He wraps both hands around Capell's hips and pulls out slowly, and that ought to be the point where Capell sags in relief but the corset won't let him. His ribs ache a little in front, and his back aches below his ribs, too.
He reaches back and fumbles with the laces. "Can I, um," he says, because this is getting kind of uncomfortable.
"Sure," Ed says. "Yeah. Let me help." He pulls the laces untied, and then they come loose with a few good tugs, and Capell takes a huge, deep breath just because he can.
By the time he lets it out, he's laughing, undoing the hooks in the front of the corset and letting it fall before he turns around. "So, you have a good time?"
Ed kisses him before he answers. "Yeah," he says after that. He pulls Capell toward the bed with him, and they both collapse onto it in a little heap. "How about you?"
"Yeah," Capell says automatically, and then makes himself stop and think about it for a minute and answer for real. "It was...it was pretty neat. I don't know how girls wear that stuff all the time, though." He snuggles up to Ed's side. "You, um, don't want to do that every time, do you?"
"No, of course not," Ed says. "I just...wanted to try it. See what it would be like." He drapes an arm over Capell, rubs gently at the red lines the corset left in Capell's skin. "We don't have to do it again at all if you don't want to."
Capell shakes his head. "I wouldn't mind," he says. "Just maybe not right away, okay?" He tries out a smile. "Next time I want to be the one who comes up with something to try."
Ed laughs, and that makes Capell feel pretty good, too. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Your turn next."
PWP, TWT, WTF, BBQ. ~1500 words, not worksafe, Edward/Capell, no canon knowledge required, just an interest in boys wearing corsets. sob.
Trapped Breath
Damask looks so fancy, so smooth, that Capell never would have expected it to feel like this -- he splays his fingers across the tight row of hooks down the corset's center, traces one sturdy rib of the boning with his fingertips. "I feel like I'm hardly breathing," he says. His voice sounds thin and strange. He can't imagine trying to play with his lungs trapped this way.
"Too much?" Ed asks. His hands pause in the act of tightening the corset's laces.
Capell tries breathing a little more, feeling the way his shoulders have to rise and fall since his chest can't expand and contract. He shakes his head. "I don't think so," he says.
Ed pulls the laces tighter at his waist, so Capell staggers and has to clutch at a bedpost for balance. "Good," he says. He ties them -- finally satisfied they're tight enough -- and wraps his hands around the strange new curve of Capell's waist. They feel warm even though the thick layers of the fabric. "Look up."
Capell looks, meets his own eyes in the mirror. The damask shimmers, silvery as new armor, molding him into a shape that's not his own -- his limbs look longer, somehow, with his waist cinched in like this, with the curve to his shape that doesn't belong there. And having the corset on makes him feel more exposed than he did when he was naked -- like he's on display, like everything the corset doesn't cover is vulnerable. When he looks past his own reflection he can see Ed, behind him, watching him hungrily.
"You really like it," he says.
Ed nods, still meeting Capell's eyes in the glass. "You wear it well," he says. His hand slides down from Capell's waist to the lower edge of the corset, the line where fabric presses against bare flesh. He follows that line with his fingers, and it feels more sensitive than usual, being touched. His hand slides forward, to the center point where the corset dips in a point and meets the thin trail of red hair leading down to Capell's cock.
"Oh," Capell says, feeling a flush spread over his skin, his cock stirring. Just being put into the corset hadn't seemed that exciting. But now, watching the heat in Ed's eyes and feeling that careful, attentive touch -- "Please," he says.
When Ed moves, the ends of the corset laces brush the bare skin of Capell's ass and he feels exposed all over again. But Ed doesn't take hold of his cock -- instead he runs his hands up, along the bones of the corset, to trace its top edge next. The fabric stops just below Capell's nipples, and Ed's hands brush there -- gently, the first time, and then harder, a scrape of nails, when the first touch makes Capell's trapped breath catch and stutter.
"Yes," Ed murmurs against the back of Capell's neck, and his breath is warm but Capell shivers all the same. Edward hasn't touched his cock, hasn't touched his ass except by accident, but he's getting hard anyway. "You look -- even better than I imagined," Ed says. He presses his lips to the nape of Capell's neck, rubs his cheek against Capell's shoulder. "Will you let me take you like this?"
Capell tries to take a deep breath, and can't. "I -- I don't think I can move very much with this on," he says.
Ed smiles -- and Capell's still getting used to seeing that at all, much less with this flirtatious warmth to it. "You can still spread your legs, can't you?"
"Oh," Capell says. "Oh." He keeps one hand on the bedpost and shifts his stance, spreading his legs a little wider. "You want to -- to just do it like this?"
"Like this," Ed says. He slides his hands down to Capell's hips and turns him so he's not facing the mirror straight on anymore. Capell moves obediently, letting Ed's hands mold him, bending at the waist and wrapping both hands around the carved wood of the bedpost and leaning into it. "Look at yourself," Ed says.
Capell looks over at the mirror. He looks wanton, inviting, his back arched and his ass held out so -- Ed runs his hands up the backs of Capell's thighs, so gentle it's almost unbearable, and the way Capell can't help squirming only makes him seem more like he's asking for it. "Ed," he says.
"Say yes," Ed says, waiting there, his fingertips stroking the crease of Capell's thighs so lightly.
It's hard to tell if that's a demand or not. Capell doesn't really care. "Yes," he says. He feels short of breath and almost dizzy, but Ed wants him and that feels good.
And there's -- there's a limit to how much he trusts Ed, trusts anyone, with really serious stuff, but he's getting used to the idea that he can trust Ed with this, at least. Ed's hands are careful, more gentle than Capell would ever have expected, slicking him up with oil and stretching him open with slow, easy strokes. Capell pushes back, holding onto the bedpost for balance, and his chest heaves, rising out of the confines of the corset. He'd reach for his cock if he thought he'd be able to keep his balance at all, but everything feels so precarious like this. "Ready," he says, when he doesn't want to wait anymore.
Ed makes a low growling sound against the nape of Capell's neck, and Capell shivers. He feels Ed's fingers slide free, and then the head of Ed's cock replacing them. "Don't forget to breathe," Ed says.
Capell has to laugh. "I'm trying," he says, and he's already dizzy but that's okay. He takes as deep a breath as he can, and then Ed pushes, and Capell gives it all back in a moan. He feels so full, like there can't possibly be enough room inside him -- not enough room to breathe, much less enough for the thick heat of Ed's cock, but it slides in anyway, so much, so big, so good. "Ed," Capell whispers, and he doesn't dare move -- it's all he can do to hold still and keep his balance -- "Ed --"
"It's okay," Ed says. "I got you," and Capell smiles at him in the mirror because that's just like him, not as tough as he pretends to be, when it matters. He's moving really slowly, like he doesn't want it to be too much for either of them -- and then, finally, he does touch Capell's cock and that's really, really nice.
Capell doesn't try to be quiet -- if he's making noise he'll have to keep breathing, right? Even if he doesn't really have enough room to move. Ed presses up against his back, wraps his other arm around Capell's cinched waist to hold him close. It's weird, but good, those short strokes and Capell's short breath and everything, really, in those quick measured doses -- staccato -- and he'll try to tell Ed about that later, when he has the breath to spare, but right now it's all he can do to hold onto the bedpost and try to stay on his feet until all the little tremors come together into one big one and being breathless doesn't matter at all.
When he's done, Ed stops moving. Capell looks back over his shoulder. "Did you?"
Ed smiles sheepishly. "A little before you did," he says. He wraps both hands around Capell's hips and pulls out slowly, and that ought to be the point where Capell sags in relief but the corset won't let him. His ribs ache a little in front, and his back aches below his ribs, too.
He reaches back and fumbles with the laces. "Can I, um," he says, because this is getting kind of uncomfortable.
"Sure," Ed says. "Yeah. Let me help." He pulls the laces untied, and then they come loose with a few good tugs, and Capell takes a huge, deep breath just because he can.
By the time he lets it out, he's laughing, undoing the hooks in the front of the corset and letting it fall before he turns around. "So, you have a good time?"
Ed kisses him before he answers. "Yeah," he says after that. He pulls Capell toward the bed with him, and they both collapse onto it in a little heap. "How about you?"
"Yeah," Capell says automatically, and then makes himself stop and think about it for a minute and answer for real. "It was...it was pretty neat. I don't know how girls wear that stuff all the time, though." He snuggles up to Ed's side. "You, um, don't want to do that every time, do you?"
"No, of course not," Ed says. "I just...wanted to try it. See what it would be like." He drapes an arm over Capell, rubs gently at the red lines the corset left in Capell's skin. "We don't have to do it again at all if you don't want to."
Capell shakes his head. "I wouldn't mind," he says. "Just maybe not right away, okay?" He tries out a smile. "Next time I want to be the one who comes up with something to try."
Ed laughs, and that makes Capell feel pretty good, too. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Your turn next."