fic: had a bad day (El/Neal, NC-17)
LOOK, MA! I WROTE HET! Er... Actually, on second thought: LOOK AWAY, MA. LOOK AWAY!
Title: had a bad day
Author: hoosierbitch
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Elizabeth/Neal
Warnings/content: Buttplugs, snowballing, nipple torture, CBT, crops, bondage, painplay.
Notes: Written for the painplay (other) square of my
kink_bingo card.
Summary: She's had a really bad day.
There’s just something about having Neal spread out before her that she likes. Something about having him tied down and helpless, chest and stomach and genitals exposed, pulling uselessly at his restraints, that gets her off. Even when all she does is look at him, her cunt will clench, she can feel herself getting wet. Just looking at him. And when she’s got a crop in her hand, or a whip, or even just a vibe - well. Then it’s even better.
When Peter has bad days he likes to go to the gym and work out until he’s too tired to move. When Neal has bad days he comes over to their house and Peter distracts him with old cases and El stuffs them both full of food and they watch classic movies, all squished close together on the couch. When El has bad days, she wants to hurt someone.
Peter’s a patient man, but he’s not a saint. So they don’t play at home. Elizabeth doesn’t share Peter’s ethical dilemma or his patience, so she and Neal go to his place to fuck. She gags him, whenever June’s home, because when she’s smacking his dick and digging her nails into his nipples, well - Neal’s a screamer. And she’d hate to scare the landlady. She can’t wait to fuck Neal in their townhouse, on the third floor, in the guest bedroom with the thick walls. Hear him beg and cry and scream her name.
But for now they have Byron’s bed. Byron’s bed and its sturdy headboard. Neal is looking up at her, lazy-eyed and loose-limbed, pretending to be calm. She sits down on the right side of the bed between his spread-eagled limbs, and then leans back to rest against his torso. Fondles the black leather around his wrist, traces a line down his arm. Digs a bit into the soft skin on the inside of his elbow, tickles his armpit until he’s twisting to get away.
Her goal on nights like these (beyond just getting herself off) is to make Neal struggle so much that he’ll have rings of bruises around his wrists and ankles. So that she’ll know, the next day, when he’s walking around the FBI office in his fancy suit, black socks pulled up carefully under his tracker, he’ll remember who he really belongs to.
She’s spent her entire fucking day dealing with incompetent caterers and frustrating customers and the smile she’d plastered on her face the whole day is cracking. She looks at Neal, meets his eyes, and lets her fake-nice mask fall off. He shivers.
She’s stripped down to her panties and an undershirt, but Neal’s completely nude. She traces her fingernails across his smooth chest, to his sensitive nipples, enjoying the drag of his skin under her hand. When she circles his nipple, just the hint of pressure around it, he actually whimpers. She pinches his nipple until she can hear him fuck, stop, El muffled through the ball gag that’s splitting his pretty lips. Digs in until the first real note of fear enters his voice.
And then she sighs, and sits back up on the bed, petting his chest. His nipple’s an angry red. It’s a good start.
She doesn’t feel like doing much work today, so she just gets a vibrating plug and a bit of lube, pushes it into his unprepared hole. God, she’s going to be so glad when she can stop using the gag with him. He sounds so pretty, even as muffled as he is now. She slides the control up halfway and climbs on top of him, his cock rubbing against her stomach, his nipple right in front of her mouth.
She doesn’t bite it that hard. Doesn’t need to. He’s so goddamn sensitive. Worse than she is, even when she’s PMSing. She’s made him come before just by playing with them. A set of nipple clamps and a lot of determination, and he’d come utterly undone. So she doesn’t have to bite hard to get him moving, shifting underneath her weight, his cock spreading precum on her stomach. Making a mess that he knows he’ll have to clean up later. She’s done picking up after other people today.
She bites down, harder, his nipple caught between the thin line of her front teeth, and feels him trying to curl around her, trying to protect himself. His chest rising and falling so quickly. Trying to get enough oxygen with panicked, shallow breaths. This isn’t the kind of pain he enjoys. It doesn’t straddle any kind of line, it doesn’t feel anywhere close to good. But he holds on to the ball in his right hand. Doesn’t call it quits. He doesn’t want this because it makes him feel good, he wants it because she does.
Neal wants so desperately to make her happy.
She hates him for it, a little, sometimes. When Peter seems so much more relaxed around the house, or Neal gets them reservations at some impossibly exclusive restaurant. When she feels that he starts to encroach on her turf, with his shady connections and bright smile - when he does some of the things for Peter that she used to do. He’s so fucking earnest about it, trying to do it right so diligently.
She knows it’s irrational, and she’s getting better at talking through it, slowly she’s getting past it. And she knows that Neal has always been honest with them, that he loves them both the same way that they love him - equally, carefully, endlessly - but that doesn’t mean she’s not a bit scared of him. Of what it means to bring a third person into a relationship built for two.
She’s not angry at him tonight. Which means that she can be less careful. She turns up the power on the vibe and moves down between his legs, sucks his cock until he comes, fast and messy. She holds his come in her mouth and takes his gag off long enough for him to swallow it, eager and thorough as always.
She shoves the ball-gag back in before turning the vibe back on and sucking his cock again. It’s small and limp and it fits perfectly on her tongue, in her mouth, as she sucks as hard as she can.
He bucks his hips, twists his torso, sobs pitifully through his gag (interspersed with high, surprised sounds every time she gets a new angle, a new bit of skin). She just hums, trying to match the low, busy sound of the vibrator. He hates it so much when she does this. She grins around his dick and sucks harder.
Her jaw’s just starting to ache by the time he gets hard, but it’s only a minute or two after that before he’s screaming and orgasming again, long and painful, his body seized tight (she imagines the bruises forming under his restraints and moans, too).
She sucks him through it, swallows, and then moves down to his balls and licks them. At first he just groans, like a wounded animal, twitching every so often, his muscles pushed so far past their limits. Then she licks his perineum and down to the soft skin around the hard base of the vibrator. His moans turn to sobs. She turns the vibrator up to full power and they turn to screams.
She sits up and looks him over. Bite marks around his nipple, cock small and red, ball gag in his mouth, tears drawing clear lines down his temples and down through into the dark tangles of his hair. And she feels - angry. And she knows it’s not because of Neal, but she’s going to take it out on him anyway. He sees her frown and braces himself. Tightens his grip on the rubber ball in his hand.
She gets the crop from their box of toys and practices her aim. Tries to lay lines right over his nipples, creating spiderwebs of red across his chest, another asterisk of pain centered around his bellybutton. The angry welts crisscrossing and radiating out over his pale skin.
She practices her aim and focuses entirely on that, not on Neal’s reactions - just watches the black leather strike his skin, the thin red lines appearing, over and over and over again. When her arm gets tired and Neal stops trying to move out of the line of fire, she traces the crop over Neal’s half-hard dick.
He’s drawing in long shaky breaths, his body trembling with pain and fear and the instinct to run away. She gets out a cock ring, slips it onto him, and then sucks him to full hardness. Then she unlocks the restraints around his wrists.
“You can let go of that,” she says, and the rubber ball rolls out of his hand. “You need me to stop, just tap out - two taps, and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing.”
She picks up the crop and stands by the side of the bed - gives her a better angle for the next part of her plan. “You can protect your balls,” she says generously.
Silly boy that he is, he tries to cover his dick, too. She puts the crop down and pinches both of his nipples until his hands go to his chest, trying to push her hands away. The harder he pushes, the tighter she pinches - his fingers are too clumsy to pry hers off, and she doesn’t let go until he forces his arms down by his sides, leaving himself open and defenseless. “Cover. Your balls,” she says, starting to get angry again.
He closes his eyes and obeys. His body shaking with the tension of not trying to escape the pain that he knows is coming.
His dick’s so sore, after coming twice and then getting hard again so quickly. Painfully oversensitive. So she just plays with him. Tapping the head of his dick with the end of the crop. Rubbing the rough handle over the length of it. And then smacking it back and forth, the ring keeping him hard, his beautiful submission keeping him from moving his hands up to cover his cock.
“It hurts, doesn’t it,” she says softly, crawling onto the mattress and pushing his arms out of her way. His dick is hot and red and hard, slick with precum. She didn’t hit him hard enough to leave marks, but judging from the volume of his screams as she strokes him roughly, she’d hit him hard enough. She taps the base of the plug, still buzzing away inside him, and he tries to sit up and push her away.
“Back down,” she snaps, pushing on the plug as hard as she can. It takes him a minute before he can think through the pain of the vibe pressing right against his prostate, and she waits patiently.
“Good boy,” she croons, and his eyes snap up to her face. He looks broken-open. Confused and scared and hurt, she wants to take care of him, she wants to push him further.
She strips her panties off and straddles his hips, wraps her arms around his wrists and rests her weight on them, helping to hold him down. Then she shifts her hips until she’s straddling his cock. Shifts her hips until he’s pressing inside her. Smiles and lets go of his hands, and slides down on his hard, tortured, beautiful cock. She moves slowly, so that she can watch every bit of his struggle. He manages to keep his arms above his head but his arms are shaking.
She sits back and starts to ride him. She’s smiling, for the first time since they started, a smile that doesn’t feel forced or fake, smiling and tossing her head back, her hair sticking to the sweat on her shoulders.
Neal moans around his gag and she starts rubbing her clit, grinding down on him, reveling in her power and the overwhelming sensation of it, the impossible reality of Neal obeying her so perfectly, Neal suffering for her so exquisitely.
She looks at his shaking arms, at the tears dripping from his bright eyes, and pinches one of his nipples with her free hand as hard as she can and starts to come as his body seizes beneath her. Comes, watching Neal fighting to hold still, screaming around the gag. She comes, and pinches his nipple even harder, watching his stomach clench, watching the spiderwebs of welts twist as he writhes.
She laughs and comes and rides Neal like a machine, using his dick to get herself off for as long as her orgasm will last her. She comes down from the high of it with a groan, his dick hot and huge inside of her oversensitive cunt.
“Fuck,” she groans, easing herself off of Neal and collapsing on the best beside him. “I really needed that.”
She turns on her side and puts a hand on the side of his face, kisses his swollen lips around the gag. She unbuckles it carefully, smoothing his sweat-tangled hair out of his face. “What do you need?” she asks, kissing him gently. “Do you want to come, or do you want me to stop?” The plug’s still buried inside him, the cock ring still tight around him.
He just shakes his head and kisses her, collecting himself slowly, and she strokes his hair and nibbles at his lips and waits for him. “Want to come,” he gasps, after a few lazy minutes.
“Okay,” she whispers, kissing him one last time and twining one of her hands with his. “How can I help?”
“My legs,” he says, and she quickly moves down the bed and undoes the restraints. There are already rings of bruises around his ankles and she takes a second to rub her soaked pussy and think about how long it will take for them to fade. “The plug,” he says, his voice rough.
“You want it off, or out?” she asks, moving up to kneel by his waist.
“Neither,” he whispers. “Can you - can you take the ring off? And then - you know, just do what you - what you were doing before?”
“Sure, baby,” she soothes, taking the cock ring off as gently as possible. It’s still agony for him, and she can feel wetness dripping down her thighs as she listens to him cry.
He strokes his dick, painfully slowly, and she twists the plug. Presses it further inside him, finds his prostate and then just holds it there. He sobs, his hand shaking, uselessly trying to work himself towards an orgasm. He’s been hard for a while, now, but he just - he hurts so badly.
“Can I help?” she asks quietly, and he nods. “Okay,” she says, gently moving his hand away. “I’ve got you,” she promises, as she kneels between his legs.
She licks at his cock and strokes his balls with the hand not pressing the plug flush against his rim. After a minute he brings his hands down and twines them in her hair. He doesn’t pull her further down on his cock, doesn’t push her away. Just rests them there, his shaky thighs bracketing her body, trusting her not to hurt him anymore.
As much as she likes Neal when he’s helpless and screaming - she thinks she might like this even more. To have him so docile and - and trusting. To be able to take her time, getting more familiar with his body. She can imagine spending countless lazy morning exactly like this (only with Neal in their bed, and Peter by her side).
He comes quietly, just a gasp and his legs pressing tight around her torso, his hands clutching at her shoulders, her hair, shaky and desperate. She swallows the pitiful amount of come, still gently stroking his balls. She pulls off as soon as he’s finished and immediately turns the plug off. It takes a few minutes to tease it out of him, and she kisses him through it, distracting him as best she can.
“You feel better?” he asks, after she’s cleaned them both up and pulled the comforter over them.
“Much,” she whispers against his neck. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she puts an arm over his chest, trying to avoid resting any weight over the heaviest of the welts. He still hisses, but doesn’t tell her to move. “Thank you,” she says, as they start to drift off to sleep.
“You’re welcome,” he says, and usually this would be one of those moments where she’d get angry at him. For being so goddamn perfect, and sweet, and careful. Tonight, though, she just feels…grateful. Honored, even, that he’s let her so far into his life. Humbled that he’s so willing to give them both so much, so easily. Or maybe not so easily, she thinks, thinking of how dark the bruises on his body will be, come morning. How hard he’d fought in his restraints. How hard he’d fought to obey her every whim.
She feels tired. Exhausted, and sore, and - powerful. Loved. Ready to face the trials and frustrations and indignities that wait for her in the morning.
What she and Neal have - as messy and unusual as it may be - it’s theirs. And it works for them. She kisses his neck, snuggles close against his side, and falls asleep.
(feedback is loved and adored!)
http://hoosierbitch.dreamwidth.org/29031.html |
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Title: had a bad day
Author: hoosierbitch
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Elizabeth/Neal
Warnings/content: Buttplugs, snowballing, nipple torture, CBT, crops, bondage, painplay.
Notes: Written for the painplay (other) square of my
kink_bingo card.
Summary: She's had a really bad day.
There’s just something about having Neal spread out before her that she likes. Something about having him tied down and helpless, chest and stomach and genitals exposed, pulling uselessly at his restraints, that gets her off. Even when all she does is look at him, her cunt will clench, she can feel herself getting wet. Just looking at him. And when she’s got a crop in her hand, or a whip, or even just a vibe - well. Then it’s even better.
When Peter has bad days he likes to go to the gym and work out until he’s too tired to move. When Neal has bad days he comes over to their house and Peter distracts him with old cases and El stuffs them both full of food and they watch classic movies, all squished close together on the couch. When El has bad days, she wants to hurt someone.
Peter’s a patient man, but he’s not a saint. So they don’t play at home. Elizabeth doesn’t share Peter’s ethical dilemma or his patience, so she and Neal go to his place to fuck. She gags him, whenever June’s home, because when she’s smacking his dick and digging her nails into his nipples, well - Neal’s a screamer. And she’d hate to scare the landlady. She can’t wait to fuck Neal in their townhouse, on the third floor, in the guest bedroom with the thick walls. Hear him beg and cry and scream her name.
But for now they have Byron’s bed. Byron’s bed and its sturdy headboard. Neal is looking up at her, lazy-eyed and loose-limbed, pretending to be calm. She sits down on the right side of the bed between his spread-eagled limbs, and then leans back to rest against his torso. Fondles the black leather around his wrist, traces a line down his arm. Digs a bit into the soft skin on the inside of his elbow, tickles his armpit until he’s twisting to get away.
Her goal on nights like these (beyond just getting herself off) is to make Neal struggle so much that he’ll have rings of bruises around his wrists and ankles. So that she’ll know, the next day, when he’s walking around the FBI office in his fancy suit, black socks pulled up carefully under his tracker, he’ll remember who he really belongs to.
She’s spent her entire fucking day dealing with incompetent caterers and frustrating customers and the smile she’d plastered on her face the whole day is cracking. She looks at Neal, meets his eyes, and lets her fake-nice mask fall off. He shivers.
She’s stripped down to her panties and an undershirt, but Neal’s completely nude. She traces her fingernails across his smooth chest, to his sensitive nipples, enjoying the drag of his skin under her hand. When she circles his nipple, just the hint of pressure around it, he actually whimpers. She pinches his nipple until she can hear him fuck, stop, El muffled through the ball gag that’s splitting his pretty lips. Digs in until the first real note of fear enters his voice.
And then she sighs, and sits back up on the bed, petting his chest. His nipple’s an angry red. It’s a good start.
She doesn’t feel like doing much work today, so she just gets a vibrating plug and a bit of lube, pushes it into his unprepared hole. God, she’s going to be so glad when she can stop using the gag with him. He sounds so pretty, even as muffled as he is now. She slides the control up halfway and climbs on top of him, his cock rubbing against her stomach, his nipple right in front of her mouth.
She doesn’t bite it that hard. Doesn’t need to. He’s so goddamn sensitive. Worse than she is, even when she’s PMSing. She’s made him come before just by playing with them. A set of nipple clamps and a lot of determination, and he’d come utterly undone. So she doesn’t have to bite hard to get him moving, shifting underneath her weight, his cock spreading precum on her stomach. Making a mess that he knows he’ll have to clean up later. She’s done picking up after other people today.
She bites down, harder, his nipple caught between the thin line of her front teeth, and feels him trying to curl around her, trying to protect himself. His chest rising and falling so quickly. Trying to get enough oxygen with panicked, shallow breaths. This isn’t the kind of pain he enjoys. It doesn’t straddle any kind of line, it doesn’t feel anywhere close to good. But he holds on to the ball in his right hand. Doesn’t call it quits. He doesn’t want this because it makes him feel good, he wants it because she does.
Neal wants so desperately to make her happy.
She hates him for it, a little, sometimes. When Peter seems so much more relaxed around the house, or Neal gets them reservations at some impossibly exclusive restaurant. When she feels that he starts to encroach on her turf, with his shady connections and bright smile - when he does some of the things for Peter that she used to do. He’s so fucking earnest about it, trying to do it right so diligently.
She knows it’s irrational, and she’s getting better at talking through it, slowly she’s getting past it. And she knows that Neal has always been honest with them, that he loves them both the same way that they love him - equally, carefully, endlessly - but that doesn’t mean she’s not a bit scared of him. Of what it means to bring a third person into a relationship built for two.
She’s not angry at him tonight. Which means that she can be less careful. She turns up the power on the vibe and moves down between his legs, sucks his cock until he comes, fast and messy. She holds his come in her mouth and takes his gag off long enough for him to swallow it, eager and thorough as always.
She shoves the ball-gag back in before turning the vibe back on and sucking his cock again. It’s small and limp and it fits perfectly on her tongue, in her mouth, as she sucks as hard as she can.
He bucks his hips, twists his torso, sobs pitifully through his gag (interspersed with high, surprised sounds every time she gets a new angle, a new bit of skin). She just hums, trying to match the low, busy sound of the vibrator. He hates it so much when she does this. She grins around his dick and sucks harder.
Her jaw’s just starting to ache by the time he gets hard, but it’s only a minute or two after that before he’s screaming and orgasming again, long and painful, his body seized tight (she imagines the bruises forming under his restraints and moans, too).
She sucks him through it, swallows, and then moves down to his balls and licks them. At first he just groans, like a wounded animal, twitching every so often, his muscles pushed so far past their limits. Then she licks his perineum and down to the soft skin around the hard base of the vibrator. His moans turn to sobs. She turns the vibrator up to full power and they turn to screams.
She sits up and looks him over. Bite marks around his nipple, cock small and red, ball gag in his mouth, tears drawing clear lines down his temples and down through into the dark tangles of his hair. And she feels - angry. And she knows it’s not because of Neal, but she’s going to take it out on him anyway. He sees her frown and braces himself. Tightens his grip on the rubber ball in his hand.
She gets the crop from their box of toys and practices her aim. Tries to lay lines right over his nipples, creating spiderwebs of red across his chest, another asterisk of pain centered around his bellybutton. The angry welts crisscrossing and radiating out over his pale skin.
She practices her aim and focuses entirely on that, not on Neal’s reactions - just watches the black leather strike his skin, the thin red lines appearing, over and over and over again. When her arm gets tired and Neal stops trying to move out of the line of fire, she traces the crop over Neal’s half-hard dick.
He’s drawing in long shaky breaths, his body trembling with pain and fear and the instinct to run away. She gets out a cock ring, slips it onto him, and then sucks him to full hardness. Then she unlocks the restraints around his wrists.
“You can let go of that,” she says, and the rubber ball rolls out of his hand. “You need me to stop, just tap out - two taps, and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing.”
She picks up the crop and stands by the side of the bed - gives her a better angle for the next part of her plan. “You can protect your balls,” she says generously.
Silly boy that he is, he tries to cover his dick, too. She puts the crop down and pinches both of his nipples until his hands go to his chest, trying to push her hands away. The harder he pushes, the tighter she pinches - his fingers are too clumsy to pry hers off, and she doesn’t let go until he forces his arms down by his sides, leaving himself open and defenseless. “Cover. Your balls,” she says, starting to get angry again.
He closes his eyes and obeys. His body shaking with the tension of not trying to escape the pain that he knows is coming.
His dick’s so sore, after coming twice and then getting hard again so quickly. Painfully oversensitive. So she just plays with him. Tapping the head of his dick with the end of the crop. Rubbing the rough handle over the length of it. And then smacking it back and forth, the ring keeping him hard, his beautiful submission keeping him from moving his hands up to cover his cock.
“It hurts, doesn’t it,” she says softly, crawling onto the mattress and pushing his arms out of her way. His dick is hot and red and hard, slick with precum. She didn’t hit him hard enough to leave marks, but judging from the volume of his screams as she strokes him roughly, she’d hit him hard enough. She taps the base of the plug, still buzzing away inside him, and he tries to sit up and push her away.
“Back down,” she snaps, pushing on the plug as hard as she can. It takes him a minute before he can think through the pain of the vibe pressing right against his prostate, and she waits patiently.
“Good boy,” she croons, and his eyes snap up to her face. He looks broken-open. Confused and scared and hurt, she wants to take care of him, she wants to push him further.
She strips her panties off and straddles his hips, wraps her arms around his wrists and rests her weight on them, helping to hold him down. Then she shifts her hips until she’s straddling his cock. Shifts her hips until he’s pressing inside her. Smiles and lets go of his hands, and slides down on his hard, tortured, beautiful cock. She moves slowly, so that she can watch every bit of his struggle. He manages to keep his arms above his head but his arms are shaking.
She sits back and starts to ride him. She’s smiling, for the first time since they started, a smile that doesn’t feel forced or fake, smiling and tossing her head back, her hair sticking to the sweat on her shoulders.
Neal moans around his gag and she starts rubbing her clit, grinding down on him, reveling in her power and the overwhelming sensation of it, the impossible reality of Neal obeying her so perfectly, Neal suffering for her so exquisitely.
She looks at his shaking arms, at the tears dripping from his bright eyes, and pinches one of his nipples with her free hand as hard as she can and starts to come as his body seizes beneath her. Comes, watching Neal fighting to hold still, screaming around the gag. She comes, and pinches his nipple even harder, watching his stomach clench, watching the spiderwebs of welts twist as he writhes.
She laughs and comes and rides Neal like a machine, using his dick to get herself off for as long as her orgasm will last her. She comes down from the high of it with a groan, his dick hot and huge inside of her oversensitive cunt.
“Fuck,” she groans, easing herself off of Neal and collapsing on the best beside him. “I really needed that.”
She turns on her side and puts a hand on the side of his face, kisses his swollen lips around the gag. She unbuckles it carefully, smoothing his sweat-tangled hair out of his face. “What do you need?” she asks, kissing him gently. “Do you want to come, or do you want me to stop?” The plug’s still buried inside him, the cock ring still tight around him.
He just shakes his head and kisses her, collecting himself slowly, and she strokes his hair and nibbles at his lips and waits for him. “Want to come,” he gasps, after a few lazy minutes.
“Okay,” she whispers, kissing him one last time and twining one of her hands with his. “How can I help?”
“My legs,” he says, and she quickly moves down the bed and undoes the restraints. There are already rings of bruises around his ankles and she takes a second to rub her soaked pussy and think about how long it will take for them to fade. “The plug,” he says, his voice rough.
“You want it off, or out?” she asks, moving up to kneel by his waist.
“Neither,” he whispers. “Can you - can you take the ring off? And then - you know, just do what you - what you were doing before?”
“Sure, baby,” she soothes, taking the cock ring off as gently as possible. It’s still agony for him, and she can feel wetness dripping down her thighs as she listens to him cry.
He strokes his dick, painfully slowly, and she twists the plug. Presses it further inside him, finds his prostate and then just holds it there. He sobs, his hand shaking, uselessly trying to work himself towards an orgasm. He’s been hard for a while, now, but he just - he hurts so badly.
“Can I help?” she asks quietly, and he nods. “Okay,” she says, gently moving his hand away. “I’ve got you,” she promises, as she kneels between his legs.
She licks at his cock and strokes his balls with the hand not pressing the plug flush against his rim. After a minute he brings his hands down and twines them in her hair. He doesn’t pull her further down on his cock, doesn’t push her away. Just rests them there, his shaky thighs bracketing her body, trusting her not to hurt him anymore.
As much as she likes Neal when he’s helpless and screaming - she thinks she might like this even more. To have him so docile and - and trusting. To be able to take her time, getting more familiar with his body. She can imagine spending countless lazy morning exactly like this (only with Neal in their bed, and Peter by her side).
He comes quietly, just a gasp and his legs pressing tight around her torso, his hands clutching at her shoulders, her hair, shaky and desperate. She swallows the pitiful amount of come, still gently stroking his balls. She pulls off as soon as he’s finished and immediately turns the plug off. It takes a few minutes to tease it out of him, and she kisses him through it, distracting him as best she can.
“You feel better?” he asks, after she’s cleaned them both up and pulled the comforter over them.
“Much,” she whispers against his neck. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she puts an arm over his chest, trying to avoid resting any weight over the heaviest of the welts. He still hisses, but doesn’t tell her to move. “Thank you,” she says, as they start to drift off to sleep.
“You’re welcome,” he says, and usually this would be one of those moments where she’d get angry at him. For being so goddamn perfect, and sweet, and careful. Tonight, though, she just feels…grateful. Honored, even, that he’s let her so far into his life. Humbled that he’s so willing to give them both so much, so easily. Or maybe not so easily, she thinks, thinking of how dark the bruises on his body will be, come morning. How hard he’d fought in his restraints. How hard he’d fought to obey her every whim.
She feels tired. Exhausted, and sore, and - powerful. Loved. Ready to face the trials and frustrations and indignities that wait for her in the morning.
What she and Neal have - as messy and unusual as it may be - it’s theirs. And it works for them. She kisses his neck, snuggles close against his side, and falls asleep.
(feedback is loved and adored!)
http://hoosierbitch.dreamwidth.org/29031.html |
comments | Comment at Dreamwidth