Comment fic that needs to be disseminated... I could make a joke here but I'll refrain
So, I've always wanted to write something that just, personally pushed a lot of my buttons that don't get pushed a lot. The Gloves Stay On, Boot Blacking, leather, clothing vs. nudity, fingers in mouths, dirty talk, D/s, etc. etc. etc. I've sort of been mulling over the way those things all connect and how I'd like to just throw as many of them at one scene and see what stuck. But I prefer things to have plot and a good beginning. This? Does not have either of those things. I wouldn't say it's out of character, but it's all over the place. No real placement in time or space. SOMEDAY, I swear, SOMEDAY A PLOT WILL COME ALONG and I can use this scene to it's fullest. Right now it feels just like a that, a scene. In the scripted, bondage, string you up and beat you till you safeword kind of scene.
With Legato there is no safeword. I here there's been a change in term and they call it "Taken in Hand" more commonly than "Total Power Exchange" I like both. So we'll call this.
Warning: Graphic homosexual male sex and heavy kink
I don't own Trigun don't sue/eat me. I <3 Nightow-sama, rly.
Dark room, very sort of wires and metal and snowy computer screens and Knives is just sitting there in the dark.
"You called me," Legato says. Knives doesn't say anything, his head is down and he's got one leg cross over the other, both stretched out. His hands are gripping the arms of the seat he's in. He raises one of his hands and beckons, but he still doesn't say anything.
Legato steps forward, cautiously though because he doesn't honestly know what to expect. His footsteps echo around the cramped room because of the close metal walls. He stands before his master for only a moment before the natural discomfort of towering over the plant makes him kneel. For a moment he can see Knives’ face, but the details are lost in shadow. He doesn't want to be caught staring so he ducks his head.
But Knives shifts and suddenly Legato is staring, up through the fall of his hair, as if that isn't completely noticeable. Knives' face is up, staring down at him, arms crossed lightly over his chest, one hand tucked contemplatively under his sharp chin. He uncrosses and re-cross his legs, then finally picks one up and tucks the toe of his boot under Legato's chin.
Legato wants to ask, but it's not his place to do so.
"I'm pleased," Knives says lightly. Legato blinks for a second, before the words settle in. He doesn't know what he did right, if it was him at all, but he is happy because his master is happy. He smiles lightly only at the corners of his mouth, which is his real unconscious smile.
He opens his mouth to say something in reply, but Knives quickly moves the toe of his boot over and slightly into Legato's mouth.
"Don't talk. You'll ruin the moment."
Legato blinks again and slowly looks away. Knives' boot remains mostly over his mouth. The smell of leather overwhelms everything else, but somehow he tastes rubber and metals in his mouth. He likes the sole and a little of the toe of Knives' boot. Rubber, metal, and leather are not the most pleasant tastes, and yet. Hesitantly he takes Knives' foot in hand and licks across the top of toe of his boot. Knives doesn't object. So he does it again. Licks across the metal clasps that close it. As he goes his mouth waters more and the taste of metal and leather becomes less and less unpleasant.
"That's enough," Knives says finally. Pulling his foot away sharply. He now sits spread legged and leaned over towards Legato, staring at him with a particular curiosity.
"Come over here," he says.
"Yes Master," Legato replies a little more impassioned then he'd intended to. He moves to stand up.
"No," Knives orders. "Go ahead and crawl." He really has very little problem with this. Bare fingers, though not bare hands on the smooth metal floor, each scrap of his boots against the metal rings out.
He can't help but notice that he's now, essentially, between Knives' legs. His master reaches out with his gloved hand and lifts up Legato's automatically lowered chin.
"You don't look human," Knives says. "Too bad you have to talk and ruin the illusion."
Legato flushes from the compliment that is tucked in there with the insult.
"Now," Knives continues. "Strip."
He slides his coat off and folds it carefully, setting it aside. Everything else, he is rather careless. Some of the straps that hold his collar up and his sleeves down might get lost in the darkened room. He can't honestly bring himself to care. He pulls off his turtleneck and tosses it somewhere in the vicinity of his coat. He pull of his boots with great difficultly from behind him, then drags off his pants with even more difficulty from a kneeling position. It feels strange to be so naked and so unaroused, but he doesn't mind.
This all could still go horribly wrong, but he wouldn't mind that either.
He finally notices that Knives has been watching as he peels off his gloves but leaves his shackles in place. He tosses them aside and kneels in wait.
Knives lifts his face up with one hand and forced the fingers of his other hands past Legato's closed lips so suddenly that Legato couldn't have opened his mouth even though he would have.
Knives holds his head by the jaw and fucks his mouth with his gloved fingers. The leather slides easily along all parts of his mouth and the taste is totally overwhelming. It feels as if from his soft pallet to the underside of his tongue to the slight space of smooth gum behind his molars that there is no part Knives does not touch.
It's almost like a total violation, but not in any unpleasant of unwanted way. In fact the rub of leather gloves against his lips and the sides of his cheeks, the warmth of Knives' hands that seeps through at the seems of his gloves has him breathing hard and flushed. Spit slides from the corner of his mouth down his chin and must splash onto the floor.
Knives finally tires of it and withdraws both his hands, wiping the spitty glove on Legato's naked chest.
Knives then stands up suddenly. Legato is sudden caught with a face full of well... he doesn't mind. He anticipates where this is going and begins to raise his hands.
"Stand up," Knives orders, catching his servant off guard. Legato stands up as quickly and gracefully as he can, the few inches that Knives has over him feeling like a massive difference all of a sudden. Knives stares down at him for only about a moment, just enough to leave Legato unsettled.
Then his master grabs him by the arm and whirls him around, throwing him face forward into the chair. Legato catches himself and barely keeps himself from bashing his nose into the back of his skull.
"You're quick," Knives says. Legato feels something twist in his stomach. He should have expected this. He braces himself, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw so he won't scream when Knives hits him.
Instead Knives' gloved hands tuck around his hip bones and lift him up until his legs are straight and his upper body bent over, arms braced in the chair. Like with his mouth there are no gentle touches, no real warning except for the repositioning of his body. He didn't have any time to relax again and Knives two gloved fingers suddenly penetrating him hurt. He relaxed though and the wet leather was slick enough that he could feel no lingering pain.
The leather gloves, actually felt exactly like skin when they were inside of him, but on the flesh of his ass he could still feels the seems, still could tell the difference between cool leather and the warm skin he wanted.
Like his footsteps and crawling, the wet sounds of their fucking, Legato's tiniest hitch in breath, and finally the clicking noise of metal clasps being undone reverberated around the room. The metal noise made Legato's mouth water, he licked his lips and it made a louder noise than he had meant it too.
Knives' hand slid up his back, around his neck and his gloved fingers dug into his mouth with the same motion that Legato's master still fucked him with his other hand. Finally Knives withdrew all his fingers, smearing spit and the taste of leather across Legato's cheek.
The blunt, wet head of Knives' erection was slow to penetrate him, giving Legato time to relax so that neither of them would be hurt. But even then, the stretch was uncomfortable enough to make Legato grit his teeth. He breathed through it and forced himself to relax
Knives leaned over him, placed one hand on the back of Legato's neck and held him down like that. Very quickly his thrusts went from cautious and experimental to wild and fast and hard. If there had been a time to 'adjust' it had been missed in Legato's harsh breathing.
Legato could still breathe, but the hand on his neck was heavy and forceful and made him feel like he was being choked, even if he wasn't. He bite his lips raw to hold in the moans and groans which would be embarrassing in any situation, let alone one where the walls had such an echo. Knives however was rather loud, his breathing was harsh in Legato's ears and his moans made Legato's cock twitch.
The tubes and clasps and zippers and seams on Knives' clothing scrapped against Legato's back as his master fucked him. It was light, because Knives tried to keep his distance, but as the time passed and Knives' thrusts became more wild, harder and more violent, Knives had to support his body on Legato's and then his clothing wore Legato's back full of scratches and red abraded skin. It stung with his sweat, but the feeling only made him moan harder.
He ached to be able to touch himself, to quickly alleviate the increasingly painful erection he had and let Knives' finish as he would, but his arms were both braced against the chair and he was now hold most of Knives' weight as well as his own.
What he hoped to feel was that cool leather glove, Knives' warm hand inside, wrap around his cock and jerk him off as violently as his master fucked him. Stroke for stroke he could imagine it, the smooth tanned skin of the gloves, the way the seams would catch on his foreskin and slide it down, exposing the head to that same soft material.
But the feeling never came. With a few final erratic and quick thrusts he knew that Knives was finished, could imagine his master's orgasm even if he hadn't actually felt it. Knives pulled out so quickly it left him gasping. Finally he could collapse and he did, sweat face into his own sweaty arms. His knees buckled and he was laying half on the floor and half over the seat of the chair. His balls and the base of his erection touched the cold metal floor and made him twitch.
"Turn over," Knives ordered, his voice rough from orgasm. Limply Legato obeyed until he sat, leg's spread, facing his master. He probably looked as used and discarded as he felt, like something broken, something that had outlasted it's purpose, but only barely.
And at the center of that picture was his dark red erection, slick tracks of precum running down and getting caught in his foreskin. He felt a need to cover himself, but his hands were shaking and he knew that showing false body shame would not endear himself to Knives.
Very smoothly, Knives did the very few motions it required him to redress and then starred down at Legato.
"Even when you look like a whore, you still only barely look human," Knives said, almost wistfully. Legato smiled again, his slight, but real, smile.
Knives stuck his foot out running the toe of his boot, the same one that Legato had cleaned with his tongue, up the length of Legato's erection. He bucked dangerously and whimpered.
"Please," he gasped out.
"And then you ruin it all by talking," Knives said. Legato bit his lip with such violence that he broke the skin and blood rushed down his chin in a gush.
"That's a good look for you, human," Knives scoffed. Legato did not respond, kept his teeth buried in his broken lip.
"Get over here," Knives ordered with a quick flick of his gloved hand. Legato pulled together the strength of mind and body to crawl forward.
"Closer," Knives beckoned. "Closer, don't worry I won't kill you just yet." When Legato would move no closer, Knives stepped towards him, until his leg touched Legato's chest. Knives lifted his foot until he could tuck his boot underneath Legato's erection, so that it was pressed against his master's ankle and shin.
"Go ahead," Knives said with a laugh. "Relieve yourself. I was going to burn these clothes afterwards anyways."
By this point Legato didn't have the sense to restrain himself. He took his erection in hand, letting it brush against the leather of Knives' boots, using his hand to protect it from the metal clasps and anything too painful. He wrapped his free arm around his master's pants leg, burying his bleeding face into his master's thigh.
It was quick, quicker than he wanted it, but maybe for his sense of shame it was better. The feeling of the smooth leather of Knives' pants and his boots, against the trunk of his body, against Legato's bare arm and his bare hand, against his face and his bleeding mouth, against his cock. Underneath the strong smell of his own blood and all that leather he could even smell the sharp electric smell that was his master, Knives' sweat and skin and cum.
For a second his world vanished except for that, that smell and the feel of leather on his skin.
And then it was over and Knives kicked him away, his body too limp to support him. He stalked away muttering something, something about how Legato disgusted him. Legato's face and mind burned with shame, but really, he'd never felt better, his body loose and sore and endorphins from his orgasm still flooding his brain.
The metal floor was cold and the sound of Knives' boots taking his master away rang out in the room.
Have a happy night. And know that I definitely hit on people like crazy because of the writing process behind this.
With Legato there is no safeword. I here there's been a change in term and they call it "Taken in Hand" more commonly than "Total Power Exchange" I like both. So we'll call this.
Warning: Graphic homosexual male sex and heavy kink
I don't own Trigun don't sue/eat me. I <3 Nightow-sama, rly.
Dark room, very sort of wires and metal and snowy computer screens and Knives is just sitting there in the dark.
"You called me," Legato says. Knives doesn't say anything, his head is down and he's got one leg cross over the other, both stretched out. His hands are gripping the arms of the seat he's in. He raises one of his hands and beckons, but he still doesn't say anything.
Legato steps forward, cautiously though because he doesn't honestly know what to expect. His footsteps echo around the cramped room because of the close metal walls. He stands before his master for only a moment before the natural discomfort of towering over the plant makes him kneel. For a moment he can see Knives’ face, but the details are lost in shadow. He doesn't want to be caught staring so he ducks his head.
But Knives shifts and suddenly Legato is staring, up through the fall of his hair, as if that isn't completely noticeable. Knives' face is up, staring down at him, arms crossed lightly over his chest, one hand tucked contemplatively under his sharp chin. He uncrosses and re-cross his legs, then finally picks one up and tucks the toe of his boot under Legato's chin.
Legato wants to ask, but it's not his place to do so.
"I'm pleased," Knives says lightly. Legato blinks for a second, before the words settle in. He doesn't know what he did right, if it was him at all, but he is happy because his master is happy. He smiles lightly only at the corners of his mouth, which is his real unconscious smile.
He opens his mouth to say something in reply, but Knives quickly moves the toe of his boot over and slightly into Legato's mouth.
"Don't talk. You'll ruin the moment."
Legato blinks again and slowly looks away. Knives' boot remains mostly over his mouth. The smell of leather overwhelms everything else, but somehow he tastes rubber and metals in his mouth. He likes the sole and a little of the toe of Knives' boot. Rubber, metal, and leather are not the most pleasant tastes, and yet. Hesitantly he takes Knives' foot in hand and licks across the top of toe of his boot. Knives doesn't object. So he does it again. Licks across the metal clasps that close it. As he goes his mouth waters more and the taste of metal and leather becomes less and less unpleasant.
"That's enough," Knives says finally. Pulling his foot away sharply. He now sits spread legged and leaned over towards Legato, staring at him with a particular curiosity.
"Come over here," he says.
"Yes Master," Legato replies a little more impassioned then he'd intended to. He moves to stand up.
"No," Knives orders. "Go ahead and crawl." He really has very little problem with this. Bare fingers, though not bare hands on the smooth metal floor, each scrap of his boots against the metal rings out.
He can't help but notice that he's now, essentially, between Knives' legs. His master reaches out with his gloved hand and lifts up Legato's automatically lowered chin.
"You don't look human," Knives says. "Too bad you have to talk and ruin the illusion."
Legato flushes from the compliment that is tucked in there with the insult.
"Now," Knives continues. "Strip."
He slides his coat off and folds it carefully, setting it aside. Everything else, he is rather careless. Some of the straps that hold his collar up and his sleeves down might get lost in the darkened room. He can't honestly bring himself to care. He pulls off his turtleneck and tosses it somewhere in the vicinity of his coat. He pull of his boots with great difficultly from behind him, then drags off his pants with even more difficulty from a kneeling position. It feels strange to be so naked and so unaroused, but he doesn't mind.
This all could still go horribly wrong, but he wouldn't mind that either.
He finally notices that Knives has been watching as he peels off his gloves but leaves his shackles in place. He tosses them aside and kneels in wait.
Knives lifts his face up with one hand and forced the fingers of his other hands past Legato's closed lips so suddenly that Legato couldn't have opened his mouth even though he would have.
Knives holds his head by the jaw and fucks his mouth with his gloved fingers. The leather slides easily along all parts of his mouth and the taste is totally overwhelming. It feels as if from his soft pallet to the underside of his tongue to the slight space of smooth gum behind his molars that there is no part Knives does not touch.
It's almost like a total violation, but not in any unpleasant of unwanted way. In fact the rub of leather gloves against his lips and the sides of his cheeks, the warmth of Knives' hands that seeps through at the seems of his gloves has him breathing hard and flushed. Spit slides from the corner of his mouth down his chin and must splash onto the floor.
Knives finally tires of it and withdraws both his hands, wiping the spitty glove on Legato's naked chest.
Knives then stands up suddenly. Legato is sudden caught with a face full of well... he doesn't mind. He anticipates where this is going and begins to raise his hands.
"Stand up," Knives orders, catching his servant off guard. Legato stands up as quickly and gracefully as he can, the few inches that Knives has over him feeling like a massive difference all of a sudden. Knives stares down at him for only about a moment, just enough to leave Legato unsettled.
Then his master grabs him by the arm and whirls him around, throwing him face forward into the chair. Legato catches himself and barely keeps himself from bashing his nose into the back of his skull.
"You're quick," Knives says. Legato feels something twist in his stomach. He should have expected this. He braces himself, closing his eyes tightly and clenching his jaw so he won't scream when Knives hits him.
Instead Knives' gloved hands tuck around his hip bones and lift him up until his legs are straight and his upper body bent over, arms braced in the chair. Like with his mouth there are no gentle touches, no real warning except for the repositioning of his body. He didn't have any time to relax again and Knives two gloved fingers suddenly penetrating him hurt. He relaxed though and the wet leather was slick enough that he could feel no lingering pain.
The leather gloves, actually felt exactly like skin when they were inside of him, but on the flesh of his ass he could still feels the seems, still could tell the difference between cool leather and the warm skin he wanted.
Like his footsteps and crawling, the wet sounds of their fucking, Legato's tiniest hitch in breath, and finally the clicking noise of metal clasps being undone reverberated around the room. The metal noise made Legato's mouth water, he licked his lips and it made a louder noise than he had meant it too.
Knives' hand slid up his back, around his neck and his gloved fingers dug into his mouth with the same motion that Legato's master still fucked him with his other hand. Finally Knives withdrew all his fingers, smearing spit and the taste of leather across Legato's cheek.
The blunt, wet head of Knives' erection was slow to penetrate him, giving Legato time to relax so that neither of them would be hurt. But even then, the stretch was uncomfortable enough to make Legato grit his teeth. He breathed through it and forced himself to relax
Knives leaned over him, placed one hand on the back of Legato's neck and held him down like that. Very quickly his thrusts went from cautious and experimental to wild and fast and hard. If there had been a time to 'adjust' it had been missed in Legato's harsh breathing.
Legato could still breathe, but the hand on his neck was heavy and forceful and made him feel like he was being choked, even if he wasn't. He bite his lips raw to hold in the moans and groans which would be embarrassing in any situation, let alone one where the walls had such an echo. Knives however was rather loud, his breathing was harsh in Legato's ears and his moans made Legato's cock twitch.
The tubes and clasps and zippers and seams on Knives' clothing scrapped against Legato's back as his master fucked him. It was light, because Knives tried to keep his distance, but as the time passed and Knives' thrusts became more wild, harder and more violent, Knives had to support his body on Legato's and then his clothing wore Legato's back full of scratches and red abraded skin. It stung with his sweat, but the feeling only made him moan harder.
He ached to be able to touch himself, to quickly alleviate the increasingly painful erection he had and let Knives' finish as he would, but his arms were both braced against the chair and he was now hold most of Knives' weight as well as his own.
What he hoped to feel was that cool leather glove, Knives' warm hand inside, wrap around his cock and jerk him off as violently as his master fucked him. Stroke for stroke he could imagine it, the smooth tanned skin of the gloves, the way the seams would catch on his foreskin and slide it down, exposing the head to that same soft material.
But the feeling never came. With a few final erratic and quick thrusts he knew that Knives was finished, could imagine his master's orgasm even if he hadn't actually felt it. Knives pulled out so quickly it left him gasping. Finally he could collapse and he did, sweat face into his own sweaty arms. His knees buckled and he was laying half on the floor and half over the seat of the chair. His balls and the base of his erection touched the cold metal floor and made him twitch.
"Turn over," Knives ordered, his voice rough from orgasm. Limply Legato obeyed until he sat, leg's spread, facing his master. He probably looked as used and discarded as he felt, like something broken, something that had outlasted it's purpose, but only barely.
And at the center of that picture was his dark red erection, slick tracks of precum running down and getting caught in his foreskin. He felt a need to cover himself, but his hands were shaking and he knew that showing false body shame would not endear himself to Knives.
Very smoothly, Knives did the very few motions it required him to redress and then starred down at Legato.
"Even when you look like a whore, you still only barely look human," Knives said, almost wistfully. Legato smiled again, his slight, but real, smile.
Knives stuck his foot out running the toe of his boot, the same one that Legato had cleaned with his tongue, up the length of Legato's erection. He bucked dangerously and whimpered.
"Please," he gasped out.
"And then you ruin it all by talking," Knives said. Legato bit his lip with such violence that he broke the skin and blood rushed down his chin in a gush.
"That's a good look for you, human," Knives scoffed. Legato did not respond, kept his teeth buried in his broken lip.
"Get over here," Knives ordered with a quick flick of his gloved hand. Legato pulled together the strength of mind and body to crawl forward.
"Closer," Knives beckoned. "Closer, don't worry I won't kill you just yet." When Legato would move no closer, Knives stepped towards him, until his leg touched Legato's chest. Knives lifted his foot until he could tuck his boot underneath Legato's erection, so that it was pressed against his master's ankle and shin.
"Go ahead," Knives said with a laugh. "Relieve yourself. I was going to burn these clothes afterwards anyways."
By this point Legato didn't have the sense to restrain himself. He took his erection in hand, letting it brush against the leather of Knives' boots, using his hand to protect it from the metal clasps and anything too painful. He wrapped his free arm around his master's pants leg, burying his bleeding face into his master's thigh.
It was quick, quicker than he wanted it, but maybe for his sense of shame it was better. The feeling of the smooth leather of Knives' pants and his boots, against the trunk of his body, against Legato's bare arm and his bare hand, against his face and his bleeding mouth, against his cock. Underneath the strong smell of his own blood and all that leather he could even smell the sharp electric smell that was his master, Knives' sweat and skin and cum.
For a second his world vanished except for that, that smell and the feel of leather on his skin.
And then it was over and Knives kicked him away, his body too limp to support him. He stalked away muttering something, something about how Legato disgusted him. Legato's face and mind burned with shame, but really, he'd never felt better, his body loose and sore and endorphins from his orgasm still flooding his brain.
The metal floor was cold and the sound of Knives' boots taking his master away rang out in the room.
Have a happy night. And know that I definitely hit on people like crazy because of the writing process behind this.