Happy Holidays, Tenshinokira!
Title: To Famine, With Most Devious Intent
Author: muselolita
Recipient: tenshinokira
Pairing: Famine/Pollution
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slight bondage, caning, begging, object insertion.
Summary: Famine receives a rather unexpected gift. But of course it's not like he'll just accept anything like that without making a few additional demands.
Notes: I tried to make it kinky and kind of sweet at the same time. I really hope this is what you were looking for. I have a bad habit of making things a bit too edgy.
The world seemed to be blanketed in pristine white, snow covering everything that tinsel and twinkle lights weren't strung from and wrapped around. The city in winter glittered, it was beautiful. Famine found it rather disgusting, actually. The only part of winter that he even found the slightest bit fulfilling was the vastness of the desolation in created. In the wake of the frost, plant life died, animals crawled into their warm little burrows, and people chose cozy firesides instead of the towns and cities. Once the stores closed and the rush to buy one's family and friends' love with material possessions was over, it was desolate. It was practically bearable. Famine may have been able to enjoy it if he wasn't so eager to get back to his own home and enjoy a quite night by himself. Working with people all day made him feel vaguely ill, even if he did get a rush of pride from a job well done.
His cane clicked on the paved sidewalk, occasionally sliding a bit on a patch of ice here and there that his steps seemed to be immune to. He thought of little more than getting home and getting out of the snow. It was beginning to fall faster now and the last thing Famine needed was a little visit from Pestilence (the old bastard) waving a bit of cold in his face. The fact that they had no parted each other on good terms decades ago usually meant that Famine was just as susceptible to mortal illnesses as the soul-bearers themselves. One would think retirement meant a nice warm vacation spot and staying out of other people's ways when they were trying to work, but apparently not.
Famine's keys jingled slightly in the lock as he pushed his way into his house. His cane was deposited near the door then layer by layer he pulled off hat and coat and scarf, kicked off his boots, and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back out flat. He was about to make his way towards his study when he paused. Something wasn't right. There was a strange feeling the air, a notable tension, like when something gets caught in the back of your throat and you're not choking but it's still there, stabbing you, cutting off just the slightest bit of air and…
Fucking Pollution.
With an annoyed grumble, Famine turned and grabbed his cane, completely ready to give that boy the beating of his unnatural life just for coming into his house unannounced. He made almost no sound as he made his way up the stairs, trying to follow the tell-tale feeling that the other Horseman left behind. It felt like tar smelled, thick in your chest and slowly strangling. With a scorching glare, he stared at his bedroom door. "That little bastard," he hissed, turning the knob and pushing the door open. "Pollution, get your fu-" he started to say when he stopped dead in his tracks and just stared.
There he was, as naked as the day he'd been found in a sooty old apartment in London, laying face-down on the coal-grey comforter on Famine's bed. His skin looked as white as the snow outside and instead of his usual lank locks, his hair fell about his shoulders in deceptively angelic curls. Around his waist was what seemed to be a large black satin bow, hiding all the vital bits from view. Famine blinked, stunned, it taking him a moment longer still to realize that Pollution was laying there asleep.
He glanced at the clock on his bedside table - 10:17. Well, he had stayed a bit late to work, but it didn't take him that long to get home… or did it? How long had the creature been laying there like that, waiting?
Famine sighed wearily and stepped forward, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on Pollution's shoulder, shaking him gently awake.
The younger Horseman stifled a yawn and rubbed one eye, batting dismissively at the hand jostling him.
"Wake up and get the hell out of my bed," Famine said with the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
Pollution opened his sparkling pale eyes and looked up at Famine with a cheeky grin. "Happy Present-Day, Famine," he said with another small yawn.
"Mmn… the damnable holiday isn't for another two hours, actually. You're early."
"Don't you know, you get to open one present a day early," he said, jabbing at Famine's knee with the end of one long, sharp nail.
Famine rolled his eyes. "And that present is…?" he asked with a raise of an eyebrow.
"Silly Raven," Pollution murmured, slowly pushing himself up so he was resting on his elbows. "Didn't you read the tag?"
Oh of course, Raven thought, the bloody tag Shaking his head, he turned and indeed found a little square tag at the end of thin string lying on the white flesh of Pollution's thigh. He plucked it off and read: "To Famine - a moment of indulgence for the sake of sullying The Christ's birth." He snorted and flicked the card from his fingers, watching as it fell between the boy's slightly parted legs. "The Christ's birth is dead in the middle of July."
"We fucked then too," Pollution said with a grin and a nod.
"I recall."
With an annoyed huff, Pollution rolled over onto his side and shot Famine a pout. "Are you really saying that you're not in the least bit tempted?" he asked, pale brows furrowing together.
Famine smirked and shook his head, "Hardly," he answered. "Though... I may be able to be coerced into perhaps playing along with your ridiculous ploy."
Pollution's eyes lit up and it was hard for Famine not to laugh at him. He was a slick, spoiled-rotten little puppy sometimes. "What do I have to do to convince you?" he asked, rolling back onto his stomach and arching his back so his backside stuck up in the air a bit.
"Most certainly not that," he answered with a sigh. Famine stood, taking the end of the ribbon between his fingers and pulling on it, letting the bow slowly untie and fall away from the boy's pale skin. "Up with you," he instructed, letting the ribbon fall to the side as he watched Pollution rise to his knees and slowly climb off of the bed. Famine took a step backwards, reaching to the side and resting his hand on the curve of his cane. "Now," he said, taking it and holding it in front of him, "on your knees and I want you to ask as politely as you possibly can for whatever it is that you want."
He'd played this game before with Famine, this 'ask nicely' game and he knew the results were usually in his favor especially since Famine could never just indulge in something without making someone work for it, without giving it as a hard-earned reward. Obediently, Pollution lowered himself to his knees, holding his hands behind his back and looking up with a perfect little pout. "Doctor Sable," he started, batting his long eyelashes, "if it pleases you, I'd like to offer my body for you to use however you'd like for as long as you'd like to inflict any number of degrading and painful things…"
A grin curled on the man's face and he chuckled, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked.
Pollution looked up, still smirking mischievously and nodded.
"Okay little one," he said with a matching grin, amused at the fact that either of them could really keep a straight face when they both knew damn well how this was going to end. "Stand up and turn around, let's see your pretty backside."
Grinning, the boy pulled himself up off his knees and turned his back towards Raven, leaning forward and resting his hands on the edge of the bed. Famine strummed his fingers on the curve of his cane and hummed to himself. Sometimes he believed that he just humored Pollution, that he could very well just give in to his strange little requests and that the ecstatic look in the younger Horseman's eyes was what really motivated him to draw these things out the way he did.
"Don't move," he instructed, leaning his cane against Pollutions ass as he began to unbutton his shirt - starting with the cuffs and then making his way slowly down the front. Knowing that patience was no virtue that Pollution was familiar will, he took his time and neatly hung his shirt on a hanger and placed it back on one of the pulls of his dresser. His belt slid off and was put neatly away, and then his socks. By the time he moved to pull his undershirt off, Pollution was squirming with eagerness. "I said," Famine said, "not to move."
"Then stop taking so long…" the blonde whined in response.
Famine sighed, casting his shirt into the hamper to the side and moving forward. He picked up his cane, holding it upright in one hand. "You should have learned by now how to hold your tongue," he said, a severity to his voice.
The boy knew what was coming even before he felt the crack of thick, polished wood against his backside. He groaned and arched forward, hands fisting in the sheets. He forgot how to breathe for a moment as the second blow fell against the fleshy parts of his thighs and he curses everything Above and Below that they were given the ability to feel pain. Once the shock wore off that he was being punished for just a little talking back, he found himself rather enjoying the feeling again. It hurt like a bitch, but to Pollution that was just as incredible a feeling as anything else that would be done to him that night.
"How many was that?" Famine asked after a moment, when Pollution's backside was sufficiently red.
"Ten… ten, I think."
"Do you think you've had enough?"
He smirked, "Never."
Famine tossed the cane on the bed, bringing his hands firmly down on the red and bruising cheeks of the boy's ass. He raked his nails up over the injured flesh, pulling a hard moan from Pollution who arched his back and buried his face against his arms.
"To use however I'd like, hm?" Famine purred, bringing a hand down for another stinging slap, the boy's pale skin bright red now.
"Yes sir," Pollution breathed in response, trying to wriggle back against Famine's hands, "however you'd like."
Famine chuckled and took a step back, walking around the end of the bed so he was standing in front of Pollution. He grabbed his cane from the bed, running his hands over the polished wood for a moment as he inspected the boy in front of him. Pollution's cheeks were just as red as his ass and there was a glint of hot lust in his gaze. Famine brought the tip of his cane along the boy's sharp cheekbones and down until they touched his lush lips. "You know what to do, my pretty little stain."
Pollution parted his lips and allowed Famine to slide the end of the cane a little ways into his mouth, closing his lips slowly around it and letting his eyes fall closed. He learned long before now how Famine liked it to look. After allowing himself the littlest bit of indulgence, though, he leaned forward and cupped Pollution's cheek in his hand, lifting his head a little. "Make it nice a slick darling," he said and Pollution's cheeks suddenly flushed hot.
By the time Famine had pulled the cane from Pollution's mouth is was practically dripping with a thick spit. Famine narrowed his eyes, "Did I tell you that you could do that?" he asked.
"No…" he smirked, "but you didn't tell me I couldn't either."
"Cheeky little…" Famine's words trailed off into a mutter as he ran a finger along the slickened part of the wood, his fingers tingling a little where they touched it. He's always wondered if he could make Pollution lose concentration for long enough that he'd accidentally spit acid, but it had only happened once. Apparently he'd learned to keep the corrosive liquids out of his mouth. However, his ability to produce this so far unidentifiable goo dampened the potential fun of Famine's plan. Now it wasn't going to hurt. Damn.
Stepping around the end of the bed once more, he slapped the side of Pollution's leg and urged him back up onto his knees. The boy arched and wiggled his backside at Famine who just smirked and rubbed the end of his cane along his ass, tip pressing against him. Pollution squirmed, pushing back and biting his lip to stifle a moan. A little shock of pain jut into the pit of his stomach as he felt his body give under the bit of pressure. With one hand on the boy's backside, Famine worked the cane into him, thrusting shallowly.
Even when the gift was his, Famine couldn't allow himself to take advantage of something like this. Oh he was getting his satisfaction out of watching the blonde squirm and writhe, listening to the foul things that slipped from Pollution's lips and watching him fight not to reach back and touch himself. The two of them had been playing at this game for so long that they knew what the other liked and didn't need to utter a single word if they chose not to. This, however, was quite new for Pollution, who was biting his lip and trying not to cry out or swear anymore than he was.
He finally dared to let a hand slip back, thin fingers wrapping around himself and moving quickly for a moment until it became apparent that Famine wasn't going to tell him to stop. He sighed heavily, forehead sinking into the bedsheets and his free hand stretching out in front of him as the other one worked quickly. Pollution's body trembled and Famine just slammed the end of the cane into him harder, exercising the same precise control as he did with everything else. He could seriously hurt the younger Horseman if he wanted to, and the fact that he didn't… Well, Pollution would never accuse him of having emotions, but the thought did flicker in his mind for a moment.
It wasn't long before Pollution's body tensed, jaw clenching and limbs trembling for a brief moment before he came on the sheets under him. Famine grumbled something about silk and dry-cleaning, before pulling the cane away and dropping it to the ground with a clatter. As Pollution rolled over, panting and scrambling to push his hair from his face, Famine crawled up on the bed and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, mouth finding his way to his skin and kissing and biting along his clavicle.
Pollution's hands worked quickly on the man's fly, sliding a hand inside and easily taking Famine into his hand. It was quick. It was always quick. And as though he'd never broken down and given into his desires, Famine was pulling himself together and pulling his clothes back on as though nothing ever happened. It was this which left Pollution feeling a bit unsatisfied, which he supposed made Famine feel completely satisfied and, since it was his Christmas present, he wouldn't demand the other man crawl back into bed with him… this time.
~end~
Happy Holidays, tenshinokira, from your Secret Writer!
Author: muselolita
Recipient: tenshinokira
Pairing: Famine/Pollution
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slight bondage, caning, begging, object insertion.
Summary: Famine receives a rather unexpected gift. But of course it's not like he'll just accept anything like that without making a few additional demands.
Notes: I tried to make it kinky and kind of sweet at the same time. I really hope this is what you were looking for. I have a bad habit of making things a bit too edgy.
The world seemed to be blanketed in pristine white, snow covering everything that tinsel and twinkle lights weren't strung from and wrapped around. The city in winter glittered, it was beautiful. Famine found it rather disgusting, actually. The only part of winter that he even found the slightest bit fulfilling was the vastness of the desolation in created. In the wake of the frost, plant life died, animals crawled into their warm little burrows, and people chose cozy firesides instead of the towns and cities. Once the stores closed and the rush to buy one's family and friends' love with material possessions was over, it was desolate. It was practically bearable. Famine may have been able to enjoy it if he wasn't so eager to get back to his own home and enjoy a quite night by himself. Working with people all day made him feel vaguely ill, even if he did get a rush of pride from a job well done.
His cane clicked on the paved sidewalk, occasionally sliding a bit on a patch of ice here and there that his steps seemed to be immune to. He thought of little more than getting home and getting out of the snow. It was beginning to fall faster now and the last thing Famine needed was a little visit from Pestilence (the old bastard) waving a bit of cold in his face. The fact that they had no parted each other on good terms decades ago usually meant that Famine was just as susceptible to mortal illnesses as the soul-bearers themselves. One would think retirement meant a nice warm vacation spot and staying out of other people's ways when they were trying to work, but apparently not.
Famine's keys jingled slightly in the lock as he pushed his way into his house. His cane was deposited near the door then layer by layer he pulled off hat and coat and scarf, kicked off his boots, and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it back out flat. He was about to make his way towards his study when he paused. Something wasn't right. There was a strange feeling the air, a notable tension, like when something gets caught in the back of your throat and you're not choking but it's still there, stabbing you, cutting off just the slightest bit of air and…
Fucking Pollution.
With an annoyed grumble, Famine turned and grabbed his cane, completely ready to give that boy the beating of his unnatural life just for coming into his house unannounced. He made almost no sound as he made his way up the stairs, trying to follow the tell-tale feeling that the other Horseman left behind. It felt like tar smelled, thick in your chest and slowly strangling. With a scorching glare, he stared at his bedroom door. "That little bastard," he hissed, turning the knob and pushing the door open. "Pollution, get your fu-" he started to say when he stopped dead in his tracks and just stared.
There he was, as naked as the day he'd been found in a sooty old apartment in London, laying face-down on the coal-grey comforter on Famine's bed. His skin looked as white as the snow outside and instead of his usual lank locks, his hair fell about his shoulders in deceptively angelic curls. Around his waist was what seemed to be a large black satin bow, hiding all the vital bits from view. Famine blinked, stunned, it taking him a moment longer still to realize that Pollution was laying there asleep.
He glanced at the clock on his bedside table - 10:17. Well, he had stayed a bit late to work, but it didn't take him that long to get home… or did it? How long had the creature been laying there like that, waiting?
Famine sighed wearily and stepped forward, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing a hand on Pollution's shoulder, shaking him gently awake.
The younger Horseman stifled a yawn and rubbed one eye, batting dismissively at the hand jostling him.
"Wake up and get the hell out of my bed," Famine said with the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
Pollution opened his sparkling pale eyes and looked up at Famine with a cheeky grin. "Happy Present-Day, Famine," he said with another small yawn.
"Mmn… the damnable holiday isn't for another two hours, actually. You're early."
"Don't you know, you get to open one present a day early," he said, jabbing at Famine's knee with the end of one long, sharp nail.
Famine rolled his eyes. "And that present is…?" he asked with a raise of an eyebrow.
"Silly Raven," Pollution murmured, slowly pushing himself up so he was resting on his elbows. "Didn't you read the tag?"
Oh of course, Raven thought, the bloody tag Shaking his head, he turned and indeed found a little square tag at the end of thin string lying on the white flesh of Pollution's thigh. He plucked it off and read: "To Famine - a moment of indulgence for the sake of sullying The Christ's birth." He snorted and flicked the card from his fingers, watching as it fell between the boy's slightly parted legs. "The Christ's birth is dead in the middle of July."
"We fucked then too," Pollution said with a grin and a nod.
"I recall."
With an annoyed huff, Pollution rolled over onto his side and shot Famine a pout. "Are you really saying that you're not in the least bit tempted?" he asked, pale brows furrowing together.
Famine smirked and shook his head, "Hardly," he answered. "Though... I may be able to be coerced into perhaps playing along with your ridiculous ploy."
Pollution's eyes lit up and it was hard for Famine not to laugh at him. He was a slick, spoiled-rotten little puppy sometimes. "What do I have to do to convince you?" he asked, rolling back onto his stomach and arching his back so his backside stuck up in the air a bit.
"Most certainly not that," he answered with a sigh. Famine stood, taking the end of the ribbon between his fingers and pulling on it, letting the bow slowly untie and fall away from the boy's pale skin. "Up with you," he instructed, letting the ribbon fall to the side as he watched Pollution rise to his knees and slowly climb off of the bed. Famine took a step backwards, reaching to the side and resting his hand on the curve of his cane. "Now," he said, taking it and holding it in front of him, "on your knees and I want you to ask as politely as you possibly can for whatever it is that you want."
He'd played this game before with Famine, this 'ask nicely' game and he knew the results were usually in his favor especially since Famine could never just indulge in something without making someone work for it, without giving it as a hard-earned reward. Obediently, Pollution lowered himself to his knees, holding his hands behind his back and looking up with a perfect little pout. "Doctor Sable," he started, batting his long eyelashes, "if it pleases you, I'd like to offer my body for you to use however you'd like for as long as you'd like to inflict any number of degrading and painful things…"
A grin curled on the man's face and he chuckled, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked.
Pollution looked up, still smirking mischievously and nodded.
"Okay little one," he said with a matching grin, amused at the fact that either of them could really keep a straight face when they both knew damn well how this was going to end. "Stand up and turn around, let's see your pretty backside."
Grinning, the boy pulled himself up off his knees and turned his back towards Raven, leaning forward and resting his hands on the edge of the bed. Famine strummed his fingers on the curve of his cane and hummed to himself. Sometimes he believed that he just humored Pollution, that he could very well just give in to his strange little requests and that the ecstatic look in the younger Horseman's eyes was what really motivated him to draw these things out the way he did.
"Don't move," he instructed, leaning his cane against Pollutions ass as he began to unbutton his shirt - starting with the cuffs and then making his way slowly down the front. Knowing that patience was no virtue that Pollution was familiar will, he took his time and neatly hung his shirt on a hanger and placed it back on one of the pulls of his dresser. His belt slid off and was put neatly away, and then his socks. By the time he moved to pull his undershirt off, Pollution was squirming with eagerness. "I said," Famine said, "not to move."
"Then stop taking so long…" the blonde whined in response.
Famine sighed, casting his shirt into the hamper to the side and moving forward. He picked up his cane, holding it upright in one hand. "You should have learned by now how to hold your tongue," he said, a severity to his voice.
The boy knew what was coming even before he felt the crack of thick, polished wood against his backside. He groaned and arched forward, hands fisting in the sheets. He forgot how to breathe for a moment as the second blow fell against the fleshy parts of his thighs and he curses everything Above and Below that they were given the ability to feel pain. Once the shock wore off that he was being punished for just a little talking back, he found himself rather enjoying the feeling again. It hurt like a bitch, but to Pollution that was just as incredible a feeling as anything else that would be done to him that night.
"How many was that?" Famine asked after a moment, when Pollution's backside was sufficiently red.
"Ten… ten, I think."
"Do you think you've had enough?"
He smirked, "Never."
Famine tossed the cane on the bed, bringing his hands firmly down on the red and bruising cheeks of the boy's ass. He raked his nails up over the injured flesh, pulling a hard moan from Pollution who arched his back and buried his face against his arms.
"To use however I'd like, hm?" Famine purred, bringing a hand down for another stinging slap, the boy's pale skin bright red now.
"Yes sir," Pollution breathed in response, trying to wriggle back against Famine's hands, "however you'd like."
Famine chuckled and took a step back, walking around the end of the bed so he was standing in front of Pollution. He grabbed his cane from the bed, running his hands over the polished wood for a moment as he inspected the boy in front of him. Pollution's cheeks were just as red as his ass and there was a glint of hot lust in his gaze. Famine brought the tip of his cane along the boy's sharp cheekbones and down until they touched his lush lips. "You know what to do, my pretty little stain."
Pollution parted his lips and allowed Famine to slide the end of the cane a little ways into his mouth, closing his lips slowly around it and letting his eyes fall closed. He learned long before now how Famine liked it to look. After allowing himself the littlest bit of indulgence, though, he leaned forward and cupped Pollution's cheek in his hand, lifting his head a little. "Make it nice a slick darling," he said and Pollution's cheeks suddenly flushed hot.
By the time Famine had pulled the cane from Pollution's mouth is was practically dripping with a thick spit. Famine narrowed his eyes, "Did I tell you that you could do that?" he asked.
"No…" he smirked, "but you didn't tell me I couldn't either."
"Cheeky little…" Famine's words trailed off into a mutter as he ran a finger along the slickened part of the wood, his fingers tingling a little where they touched it. He's always wondered if he could make Pollution lose concentration for long enough that he'd accidentally spit acid, but it had only happened once. Apparently he'd learned to keep the corrosive liquids out of his mouth. However, his ability to produce this so far unidentifiable goo dampened the potential fun of Famine's plan. Now it wasn't going to hurt. Damn.
Stepping around the end of the bed once more, he slapped the side of Pollution's leg and urged him back up onto his knees. The boy arched and wiggled his backside at Famine who just smirked and rubbed the end of his cane along his ass, tip pressing against him. Pollution squirmed, pushing back and biting his lip to stifle a moan. A little shock of pain jut into the pit of his stomach as he felt his body give under the bit of pressure. With one hand on the boy's backside, Famine worked the cane into him, thrusting shallowly.
Even when the gift was his, Famine couldn't allow himself to take advantage of something like this. Oh he was getting his satisfaction out of watching the blonde squirm and writhe, listening to the foul things that slipped from Pollution's lips and watching him fight not to reach back and touch himself. The two of them had been playing at this game for so long that they knew what the other liked and didn't need to utter a single word if they chose not to. This, however, was quite new for Pollution, who was biting his lip and trying not to cry out or swear anymore than he was.
He finally dared to let a hand slip back, thin fingers wrapping around himself and moving quickly for a moment until it became apparent that Famine wasn't going to tell him to stop. He sighed heavily, forehead sinking into the bedsheets and his free hand stretching out in front of him as the other one worked quickly. Pollution's body trembled and Famine just slammed the end of the cane into him harder, exercising the same precise control as he did with everything else. He could seriously hurt the younger Horseman if he wanted to, and the fact that he didn't… Well, Pollution would never accuse him of having emotions, but the thought did flicker in his mind for a moment.
It wasn't long before Pollution's body tensed, jaw clenching and limbs trembling for a brief moment before he came on the sheets under him. Famine grumbled something about silk and dry-cleaning, before pulling the cane away and dropping it to the ground with a clatter. As Pollution rolled over, panting and scrambling to push his hair from his face, Famine crawled up on the bed and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, mouth finding his way to his skin and kissing and biting along his clavicle.
Pollution's hands worked quickly on the man's fly, sliding a hand inside and easily taking Famine into his hand. It was quick. It was always quick. And as though he'd never broken down and given into his desires, Famine was pulling himself together and pulling his clothes back on as though nothing ever happened. It was this which left Pollution feeling a bit unsatisfied, which he supposed made Famine feel completely satisfied and, since it was his Christmas present, he wouldn't demand the other man crawl back into bed with him… this time.
~end~
Happy Holidays, tenshinokira, from your Secret Writer!