Peter/Neal - ImplacableelrhiarhodanMay 10 2011, 23:55:22 UTC
This was going to be my entry for MMOM for tomorrow, the prompt was "silk" but I though you'd like it as a fill for #3 on your list. Enjoy, darling:
The blindfold was silk, the corset, leather. He waited, hard, wanting, eager. His excitement and the tight bindings made it hard to breathe.
“Touch yourself, Neal.”
His heart sang at that voice - so stern, so beloved. Three words and compliance was ensured.
Neal gently brushed his fingers against his cock. He didn’t touch bare skin, though. Peter had wrapped his penis and balls in the softest silk - it was tissue thin but strong, gathered and tied like a present for someone.
“Harder, Neal.”
He could feel his precome wet the silk - it wasn’t just the command, it was the way Peter said his name; to ensure that Neal remained Neal, and did not become a shadow of some other persona.
He squeezed his dick through the silk covering, and rubbed his thumb across the head. He panted, unable to get enough air into his lungs. He pulled and stroked, aware of Peter watching and .judging. He hoped he wasn’t found wanting.
Neal panted and pulled and grew dizzy.
“Do you want to come, Neal?”
His name, always his name. He nodded, breathless.
“Tell me what you want.”
Neal fought for air, but kept stroking himself, the wet silk now an irritant. “I want you to touch me.” He paused, seeking air. “I need your mouth on my cock.”
Peter laughed. “I bet you’d like that.”
Neal rubbed harder, faster, and begged. “Please.” In the darkness behind the mask, he didn’t know if he was fading out. “Please.” His hands slowed. “Please, Peter. I need … you.”
Peter didn’t answer and Neal’s universe was reduced to the hot wetness of his cock under his hand and the hot wetness of tears running down his face.
He struggled for one more breath, and as he came, it was stolen by a kiss.
The blindfold was silk, the corset, leather. He waited, hard, wanting, eager. His excitement and the tight bindings made it hard to breathe.
“Touch yourself, Neal.”
His heart sang at that voice - so stern, so beloved. Three words and compliance was ensured.
Neal gently brushed his fingers against his cock. He didn’t touch bare skin, though. Peter had wrapped his penis and balls in the softest silk - it was tissue thin but strong, gathered and tied like a present for someone.
“Harder, Neal.”
He could feel his precome wet the silk - it wasn’t just the command, it was the way Peter said his name; to ensure that Neal remained Neal, and did not become a shadow of some other persona.
He squeezed his dick through the silk covering, and rubbed his thumb across the head. He panted, unable to get enough air into his lungs. He pulled and stroked, aware of Peter watching and .judging. He hoped he wasn’t found wanting.
Neal panted and pulled and grew dizzy.
“Do you want to come, Neal?”
His name, always his name. He nodded, breathless.
“Tell me what you want.”
Neal fought for air, but kept stroking himself, the wet silk now an irritant. “I want you to touch me.” He paused, seeking air. “I need your mouth on my cock.”
Peter laughed. “I bet you’d like that.”
Neal rubbed harder, faster, and begged. “Please.” In the darkness behind the mask, he didn’t know if he was fading out. “Please.” His hands slowed. “Please, Peter. I need … you.”
Peter didn’t answer and Neal’s universe was reduced to the hot wetness of his cock under his hand and the hot wetness of tears running down his face.
He struggled for one more breath, and as he came, it was stolen by a kiss.
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NO WAY.
MOTHERFUCKING GUH, DUDE.
SHIT.
THAT IS TOO FUCKING HOT.
EVERY SINGLE LINE. THAT'S - GUH.
*FLAIL*
DAYUM.
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