8 - upwards to infinity
Welcome to our eighth prompt post.
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
As ususal, here are a few things to keep in mind:
1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first comment, like a real ( Read more... )
They say that the act should make him the submissive, but Ed doesn’t think that that’s right. Because David’s the one whining and gasping, begging him to hurry, and he’s the one in control of the situation.
And he loves it; the feel of David against his tongue, and the way David moves under him, trying and failing to stop his hips from surging upwards. David’s fingers are restless against his scalp, wanting to grip tighter, but afraid it might hurt him.
He redoubles his efforts, so that David can’t help himself and it sends a flood of arousal through him, so strong that he’s shivering. That’s what this is about: making David lose control, his legendary composure.
Because it’s always been what he admires so about David, and what he has most wanted to see broken apart. It’s the cracks which make Ed love him so, the proof that he’s fallible and human. The proof that David’s capable of loving him like this in return, deviant and twisted.
“Ed,” David groans, and it’s like he can’t see, can’t do anything but focus on the taste of David, the bitterness that makes him wish he could just do this forever. To have David at his mercy, helpless and wanting. To be the one thing David needs, more than anything.
David’s getting close he can tell, from the way his thighs are tense and trembling, and the way he’s hardening still further, making the slide of Ed’s mouth against him perfect. He pulls back, enough to meet David’s gaze as he looks down at him, dark and unfocussed, and he digs his fingers into David’s flesh, trying to pull him closer,
“Come on, David,” the words tumble from his lips, just like a hundred times before, “Give it to me. Please.”
David moans, eyes falling shut and his head falling back, and Ed swallows him again, frantic. He pushes down to meet David’s thrusts up, and his hand finds himself, his body pushing into his own palm desperately.
His own fingers are slick when David comes, and he doesn’t want to leave off, strokes his tongue against David until his brother pushes him away, shakily, and pulls him up the bed instead. David’s hand takes over then, the other clutching at the back of his head, holding him still as he plunders his mouth, slick tongue chasing the taste of himself.
He can’t last, not with David so vital and wonderful against him, and he breaks away from David’s mouth to gasp into the crook of his neck, to taste the tang of his sweat and his aftershave and the familiar taste of David underneath it.
“Anybody would think you enjoy doing that,” David jokes afterwards, when Ed’s sprawled boneless and breathless beside him. Ed just glares at him, his vision half obscured by pillow, and mumbles,
“I don’t hear you complaining about it.”
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