To Steal the Air from Your Lungs [RPS/Kink]
Title: To Steal the Air from Your Lungs
Pairings: Chris Hemsworth/Tom Hiddleston
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3778
Summary: Chris bought Tom a present, but Tom doesn't know how to feel about it, even if he wants to please Chris in the process.
Author Note: This was only supposed to be a kink, but then it turned into a monster. So, I decided to make it it's own story. Contains corseting and a randomly placed/mild play of mental state/Slave stuff/and a sort of Dom/Sub relationship. Yeah.
To Steal the Air from Your Lungs
It lay out on the hotel bed, just sitting on the comforter waiting for him. At first, the idea brought a sense of unease to settle in Tom’s stomach. The idea that Chris wanted this made him…uncomfortable. It was feminine in a way that Tom didn’t like, as if Chris was trying to gain something from him that Tom couldn’t actually give. He liked to make Chris happy, to see him smile and look at Tom like he was the most important thing in the world, but this…this felt like Chris didn’t want him, but someone else. It made his stomach sink inside him, a chill run across his skin that was entirely unpleasant, and all Tom wanted to do was make it go away.
But Chris had asked so nicely; had said it so kindly while brushing a strand of hair from his face, making his eyelashes flutter and his gaze turn up so his eyes met Chris’s own. They were as warm as ever, slanted and only half-open in that way whenever he smiled and really, really meant it. He said he would love to see Tom like that, thought he would look beautiful with his waist pulled tight and chest flushed. The words were whispered right in Tom’s ear, fingers tapping softly against his hip just as Chris told him he bought Tom a present , picked it out special, and how he would love for him to go up to the room and try it on.
With a shuttered breath, Tom nodded and quickly escaped Chris’s grasp, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe properly. Even so, he found himself heading up to their hotel room as the sick feeling rose inside his throat.
Staring down at his ‘present’ now, Tom found himself with mixed feelings. The former anxiety of the entire situation was still there, but the longer he stared at it the longer he found himself liking it. It was beautiful, not some leather thing or covered in layers of lace like he thought. Chris didn’t just stop by any random store and grabbed the first corset he set his eyes on, this one was special. It was of no design he had ever seen before and clearly had taken time and much thought in its choosing.
White with a floral pattern done in sky blue-something one might find on the walls of an old and loved home. The black lining was thin and just bold enough to add contrast, but not enough to take away from the full design. The black ribbons came around the waist and knotted together into little bows. He let a finger trail down it, feeling the steel ribbing under the layers of cloth. It was sturdy and made with purpose instead of comfort, not something you’d find in any store to go out in for the night-something more private, elegant, and made for posture.
Taking a breath, Tom picks it up, feeling the weight of it all in his hands and turning it to see the black lacing run down the back, criss-crossing with heavy strings that he knew would be able to hold together tight enough without snapping. It was beautiful; he had to admit, though when he imaged it being worn it brought up images of women instead of himself. He was almost surprised to find that Chris had not set out anything else with the corset-no white panties or garter belts or further ribbons to tie into his hair. It brought a small sense of ease to his panicked mind, thinking that maybe this wasn’t about Chris wanting something else and just wanting him.
After a long pause and his fingers tracing over the little blue patterns swirled and stitched into the fabric, Tom decides to just do it and sets it back down on the bed, getting undressed.
He goes slowly, taking off his shoes and socks first to place them beside the bed. He has no idea how long it will be until Chris come up to the room, but he tries to not think about that, or anything really, as he pulls his belt from the loops. It only takes a few minutes to undress, folding his clothes up nice and neat to place on a nearby chair. He stands at the foot of the bed for another few minutes, simply staring awkwardly down at the corset once more, trying to figure out if he should just wear it and nothing else.
But Chris only asked for this, only left this for him, and who was Tom to say no? He had asked so nicely and Tom really found no reason to not do so (Chris loved him, cared for him, and this wasn’t something strange). He closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and when he opened them he had made up his mind.
---
Chris announced himself with a knock before he enters and only gets half his body through the threshold before his breath his stolen from him and he is forced to stop.
On the bed, Tom hasn’t noticed him yet. He’s too busy squirming around in an attempt to reach the laces at the back of the corset he is currently wearing. The hooks at the front are all clasped up, the corset fitting around his body, though it’s too loose as it slides down his frame, exposing dusty nipples in his failures to reach around to his back and pull the laces properly while typing them off. He’s wearing nothing but the corset and Chris could swear that his skin tone was that much softer.
Somehow, Chris manages to breathe again and with the oxygen also comes the ability to think as he quickly shuts the door just in case anyone decided to walk by (this sight should be his and only his) while also managing to knock Tom out of his little struggle with a jump. His arms fall down to sit in his lap, face already turning bright red as he looks down to the floor, fingers playing with the little black ribbon that knotted in a bow right above his pelvis.
“Sorry.” Is the first word out of Tom’s mouth, which shouldn’t be a surprise because this is Tom after all, but Chris still wants to correct him, tell him there is nothing to be sorry for in the least and that everything was fine. He keeps quiet. “I-I couldn’t reach the ties to tighten it.” He looks down at his chest and tries on his own to pull the corset up into its correct position, but with no breasts to keep it in place, Tom is clearly having difficulty. “I wanted it to look right when you came to see it. I didn’t want-“
He looks up and Chris is standing right in front of him, fingers brushing against his jaw, down his throat, moving south until they trace his collarbone and, almost hesitantly, go further to graze his nipple and edge towards the silky-smooth fabric of the corset’s black border. Tom can feel himself growing hotter under the touch, that intense gaze, and it takes everything he has not to tense up underneath it all, hearing himself gasp with each touch. He’s nervous again, body wanting to shake and tremble and tell Chris how sorry he was for not be able to put it on all on his own.
But Chris knows better to let him talk, instead he looks up again and smiles at Tom, leaning down to cover his mouth with a kiss before anymore words or apologize could be made.
“I’ll help you.” Is all he says as he pulls away, leaving Tom to lean forward in want of those lips back on his own. A hand runs down his side, makes Tom shiver before tapping on his hip. “Turn around, love.”
The voice is soft, but commanding, and with only a hint of hesitation, Tom did turn around. He climbs up to kneel on the bed, keeping his back straight, shoulders down, so Chris can have the best possible view. He keeps his eyes forward, biting his lip when he feels hands on his hips, pushing the corset up to hug his chest.
“Hold it right there for me.”
Tom nods with the words, slowly, softly, and did just as Chris tells him to. He can feel Chris tugging at the corset’s laces, untangling the mess of string Tom had put them in. His heart is ready to break his ribs, beating so hard Tom thought he might be having a panic attack. This is crazy. Insane. Horribly-
“Alright, I want you to take a breath. I’m going to tighten it, okay? Just tell me if it gets to be too much.”
The words are still soft, trusting, entirely Chris and Tom just can’t say ‘no’. Again, he nods, took a breath just like he is told, and can feel it as his heart skips a beat.
There is a second, just one, where Tom forgets how strong Chris is. Which, in itself, is stupid, but the thought of it comes flooding back as soon as those well-worn hands wrap around the extra length of cord and pull. Tom can’t help but gasp as he feels the air being pressed from his lungs, hand shooting up to his waist to feel it as the corset pulls around his form. There is a second of pause in which Tom scrambles to take in a breath before Chris is pulling again, forcing his body to give way under the force.
“Chri-AH!” He only manages part of a name before it is ripped away from him, feeling the squeeze of fabric and metal to cut his waist line down and keep his posture straight. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing, keeping his heart rate under control, which works for a second as Chris pauses once more.
The grip he has on the laces never loosens, but Chris does stop long enough to lean in and give one shoulder a light kiss. “Are you alright?” He whispers against the skin, sending a thrill of goosebumps along the flesh.
Tom can only pant for a moment, getting his breathing under control before he licks his lips, taking in a slow breath of air, noting how it feels so much more forced and shallow then before. “Yes. Yes, I’m, f-fine.” He blinks, presses a hand to his flat stomach and wonders how small Chris will want him right before he can push the thought away as quickly as possible. “Please,” He has to pause for another breathe, taking it all in strides. “Keep going.”
One more kiss, this time to the other shoulder, and Tom can feel the strings being pulled behind him once more. He tries to stay as still as possible, make even less noise as his waist slowly shrink with Chris tugging and tugging, cutting away at his breathing, making him feel the dig of steel bones and-oh!
His eyes flutter open, looking down to find his cock twitching to life, slowly growing full between his legs with every pull and inhaled struggle for air. His eyes go a bit wide at the sight, mouth hanging slightly open as he watches himself grow hard, can feel the warmth pooling down in his groin and no, no, this can’t actually be happening.
“Tom?”
It took him a second to realize the relentless tugging had stopped and suddenly his breathing, still shallow, was at least event, though he can feel it quickly picking up again as his cock twitches once more. Chris had already tied off the cords, returning once more to kiss at Tom’s shoulders, trailing his mouth down his neck, back and shoulder blades. His fingers trace his waist, running up and down his sides just hard enough for Tom to feel it through the corset. His face grows hot as it flushes, feeling Chris moan against his back.
“You look beautiful, you know.”
His fingers travel lazily, moving up and down to feel the fabric of the corset and the exposed skin of Tom’s body.
“Wrapped up like a present for me.”
Tom’s breathe hitches as he looks down to find Chris’s hands wrapping around his waist, can see how his fingers are still too far apart to touch, even if Tom feels like he can’t breathe and he has to be smaller than that.
“So beautiful.” Chris says, this time in Tom’s ear as he nuzzles at the side of his face.
And, for some reason, Tom feels he might cry.
“But-But I’m not-“ He can’t seem to catch his breath now or find the right words. He’s starting to panic, because this can’t possibly be what Chris wanted. Tom’s never done this before; he’s not small enough to fit into the corset properly, even if Chris tried so hard to buy him the right one he can’t-
“No.” Chris interrupts any train of thought with a hard squeeze to Tom’s hips that makes him wince. “Stop thinking. I can feel your brain turning too much. Stop it right now. You’re beautiful. And perfect and god damnit, Tom, you have no fucking idea, do you?” There’s a spark of anger in his voice that makes Tom wince, thinking for a moment that he has done something wrong, but those hands around his waist are turning him now, forcing him to comply with the movements and face Chris. He doesn’t want to in all truth, but let’s his body be moved anyway. He obeys when Chris’s hands press against his chest, no objections as he is pushed down onto the bed, looking up at Chris who is now kneeling above him. But there is no anger when he looks up, nothing that might look like a sign of irritation; it’s just this awed sort of look, like Chris was looking at something wonderful and amazing for the first time ever. Which, Tom supposed, he was, but he didn’t want to admit that.
Tom blushed harder under Chris’s gaze and Chris simply smiled at it.
“You really have no idea.”
It’s a statement, not a question, so Tom really doesn’t know how to answer when Chris moves to place wet kisses along his hips, biting softly at the skin and sucking until it turns red. Tom gasps softly, as much as the corset will allow, and spreads his legs wider at Chris’s touch, almost conditioned to do so at this point.
“You’re beautiful, Tom.” He can hear the words fall from Chris’s mouth, tickling his skin. “You’re just too daft to see it.” Tom is barely listening, staring up at the ceiling and just feeling what Chris is doing to him; feeling the words spoken into his flesh. “And it’s not the corset.” Tom accidently tenses up at this, which earns him a harder bite as Chris moves down his thighs, bypassing his cock which is hard and fully erect by now. “It’s you. It’s how I thought this blue would bring out your eyes.” Tom blinks and suddenly can’t really remember what his own eye color is. “Or how the black lines would bring out your form better. “ He wants to run his fingers over his own body, attempting to recall what it all might look like. “It’s simple. Elegant. Makes me want to devour you.” Another nip, this one is at the inside of Tom’s thigh and he suddenly thinks that, yes, devour me, please, I’d let you.
Chris’s mouth is taken away and Tom is almost disappointed. It doesn’t last long, however, as he finally glances down from the ceiling to watch Chris suck at his own fingers, liberally coating as his other hand brings one of Tom’s legs up to rest against Chris’s shoulder, making Tom feel so much more exposed then before. He can feel a warmth spreading through his entire body now, some sort of spark that wasn’t there before as he looks to see Chris pull his fingers away and can see them disappear, but now he can feel them so clearly, so suddenly, and Tom is finding it hard to breathe again.
“Chris,” He manages and moans at the feeling of one finger pressing against his entrance. “Please, I can’t-“ His words are cut off, stolen, as that single finger forces it’s way inside him with just the right edge of pain that he needs right now. He groans loud and curls off the bed, the position so much harder to maintain now that he is so tied up within himself, forced into a semi-permanent line that his body doesn’t want to keep. He doesn’t mind now and just wants more.
Which he gets, of course, because Chris is merciful and so very kind to him sometimes. The second finger follows close behind and stabs into Tom with more force than the first; ripping what little air he can manage right out of his lungs. It makes him feel light headed, lucid, and the force of Chris fucking him open is so much stronger now. He scissors his fingers to press against Tom’s inner walls, stretching him out nice and wide which only makes Tom feel like he’s too tight with the corset squeezing around his torso and Chris’s fingers jabbing at his insides. He just about cries when Chris decides to go for his prostate, sending shocks of lust and need coursing up his spine in a way that makes Tom wriggle around, hips canting back into Chris’s hand, wanting to bend to look down at how his own body is opening up to the other, but the bones running up and down his chest keep him away.
“M-more!” Tom moans out, forcing his lungs to stretch just that little bit so he could take in breathe only to press it all out a moment later with filthy, wanton pleads. “Chris, please. More. Need-“
The fingers are removed and Tom gives out a short sob, suddenly feeling loose and horribly empty.
“I know. I know.” The words are only half heard in Tom’s delirious state, hands reaching as far as he could to tug and pull at Chris’s still-covered legs. These actions earn him a little laugh and a soft push away. “Hold on, love. I just-you’re so beautiful-yes, yes, anything, Tom, anything.”
The Brit hears a zipper being pulled down, which is like a choir of angels to his ears along with the shifting of clothing. He’s back to looking at the ceiling again, fearful of looking down now and losing control so soon. When he feels the tip of Chris’s cock nudge at his entrance, Tom’s moaning for it, pressing his hips back as much as he can and begs, pleads with Chris to just do it already.
The first thrust is heaven, the second leaves Tom gasping, and on the third Tom figures he doesn’t have to breathe anymore.
It’s good, too good almost, as Chris’s thick cock fills him up, stretching him in a way that Tom could never image-he blames it on the corset, constricting his airflow which makes everything so much sharper now, but doesn’t really care anymore. Chris is inside him, in and out, in and out, over and over again just like Tom wants. One hand is resting against his hip, making sure every thrust hits its mark and the other moves up to Tom’s cheek, cupping him and squeezing as if to remind Tom that Chris is there. He’s panting, but no oxygen is getting to his lungs. He feels Chris’s thumb press against his bottom lip; dipping in to rub along the edges of his teeth and Tom’s tongue quickly darts forth to wet it, suck it in as Tom moans around it.
Chris’s hips change angles ever so slightly, now brushing against Tom’s prostate on every stroke which is wonderful and terrible at the same time. It sends a wave of pleasure over him, collecting in his belly and moving down quickly, balls drawing up tight to his body, pushing him over the edge now, yes, please, pleasepleaseplease-
Tom comes with a scream, torn from his throat with the last bits of whatever is left in his lungs. Come shoots out across his pelvis, stomach, hitting the fabric of the corset with the last few beads dribbling down his shaft. Tom sags against the bed, moaning in spent pleasure and too much stimulation as Chris still pounds into him. He still can’t manage air and slowly he is starting to care again as his lungs start to burn for it, but can’t get a word out to mention it.
Luckily enough, Chris knows. He always knows and gives a little smile and a groan as he pulls out of Tom’s body, cock still thick and hard between his legs. Strong hands easily flip Tom over onto his stomach where Tom thinks he is going to untie the laces that are squeezing him closed. Instead, Chris takes Tom’s cheeks in hand and spreads them open, seeing how abused and red Tom’s hole is before settling his cock in the cleft of Tom’s ass. He starts moving again, moaning in earnest now as he reaches towards his own climax, loving the sight of Tom’s body being used for his own gain.
Chris spills onto Tom’s lower back with a choked off gasp, some of his come hitting the ends of the black lace. He stares at the mess for a minute, loving the sight of his own seed on Tom’s skin, the forced curves of his waist as it moves up to his shoulders, long neck and curled hair. Only after getting his fill does Chris sigh, reaching up to tug at the cords at Tom’s back until they finally give.
Tom takes in a loud gasp of fresh air, panting heavily for a minute before once more collapsing onto the bed below him. Chris grins at the sight of him, covering Tom’s body with his own and kissing his shoulders.
“You’re beautiful, Tom.”
The smaller male lets out a soft groan before turning his head to look back at Chris. “But…I think I…ruined my-your-the corset.”
“Doesn’t matter. Still beautiful. With or without.”
There’s a long pause of silence and Tom still doesn’t get it, but then again Chris doubts he ever will.
Instead, he just tilts his head further and kisses him soft on the mouth, which Tom returns eagerly, and right now that seems like enough.
Pairings: Chris Hemsworth/Tom Hiddleston
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3778
Summary: Chris bought Tom a present, but Tom doesn't know how to feel about it, even if he wants to please Chris in the process.
Author Note: This was only supposed to be a kink, but then it turned into a monster. So, I decided to make it it's own story. Contains corseting and a randomly placed/mild play of mental state/Slave stuff/and a sort of Dom/Sub relationship. Yeah.
To Steal the Air from Your Lungs
It lay out on the hotel bed, just sitting on the comforter waiting for him. At first, the idea brought a sense of unease to settle in Tom’s stomach. The idea that Chris wanted this made him…uncomfortable. It was feminine in a way that Tom didn’t like, as if Chris was trying to gain something from him that Tom couldn’t actually give. He liked to make Chris happy, to see him smile and look at Tom like he was the most important thing in the world, but this…this felt like Chris didn’t want him, but someone else. It made his stomach sink inside him, a chill run across his skin that was entirely unpleasant, and all Tom wanted to do was make it go away.
But Chris had asked so nicely; had said it so kindly while brushing a strand of hair from his face, making his eyelashes flutter and his gaze turn up so his eyes met Chris’s own. They were as warm as ever, slanted and only half-open in that way whenever he smiled and really, really meant it. He said he would love to see Tom like that, thought he would look beautiful with his waist pulled tight and chest flushed. The words were whispered right in Tom’s ear, fingers tapping softly against his hip just as Chris told him he bought Tom a present , picked it out special, and how he would love for him to go up to the room and try it on.
With a shuttered breath, Tom nodded and quickly escaped Chris’s grasp, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe properly. Even so, he found himself heading up to their hotel room as the sick feeling rose inside his throat.
Staring down at his ‘present’ now, Tom found himself with mixed feelings. The former anxiety of the entire situation was still there, but the longer he stared at it the longer he found himself liking it. It was beautiful, not some leather thing or covered in layers of lace like he thought. Chris didn’t just stop by any random store and grabbed the first corset he set his eyes on, this one was special. It was of no design he had ever seen before and clearly had taken time and much thought in its choosing.
White with a floral pattern done in sky blue-something one might find on the walls of an old and loved home. The black lining was thin and just bold enough to add contrast, but not enough to take away from the full design. The black ribbons came around the waist and knotted together into little bows. He let a finger trail down it, feeling the steel ribbing under the layers of cloth. It was sturdy and made with purpose instead of comfort, not something you’d find in any store to go out in for the night-something more private, elegant, and made for posture.
Taking a breath, Tom picks it up, feeling the weight of it all in his hands and turning it to see the black lacing run down the back, criss-crossing with heavy strings that he knew would be able to hold together tight enough without snapping. It was beautiful; he had to admit, though when he imaged it being worn it brought up images of women instead of himself. He was almost surprised to find that Chris had not set out anything else with the corset-no white panties or garter belts or further ribbons to tie into his hair. It brought a small sense of ease to his panicked mind, thinking that maybe this wasn’t about Chris wanting something else and just wanting him.
After a long pause and his fingers tracing over the little blue patterns swirled and stitched into the fabric, Tom decides to just do it and sets it back down on the bed, getting undressed.
He goes slowly, taking off his shoes and socks first to place them beside the bed. He has no idea how long it will be until Chris come up to the room, but he tries to not think about that, or anything really, as he pulls his belt from the loops. It only takes a few minutes to undress, folding his clothes up nice and neat to place on a nearby chair. He stands at the foot of the bed for another few minutes, simply staring awkwardly down at the corset once more, trying to figure out if he should just wear it and nothing else.
But Chris only asked for this, only left this for him, and who was Tom to say no? He had asked so nicely and Tom really found no reason to not do so (Chris loved him, cared for him, and this wasn’t something strange). He closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and when he opened them he had made up his mind.
---
Chris announced himself with a knock before he enters and only gets half his body through the threshold before his breath his stolen from him and he is forced to stop.
On the bed, Tom hasn’t noticed him yet. He’s too busy squirming around in an attempt to reach the laces at the back of the corset he is currently wearing. The hooks at the front are all clasped up, the corset fitting around his body, though it’s too loose as it slides down his frame, exposing dusty nipples in his failures to reach around to his back and pull the laces properly while typing them off. He’s wearing nothing but the corset and Chris could swear that his skin tone was that much softer.
Somehow, Chris manages to breathe again and with the oxygen also comes the ability to think as he quickly shuts the door just in case anyone decided to walk by (this sight should be his and only his) while also managing to knock Tom out of his little struggle with a jump. His arms fall down to sit in his lap, face already turning bright red as he looks down to the floor, fingers playing with the little black ribbon that knotted in a bow right above his pelvis.
“Sorry.” Is the first word out of Tom’s mouth, which shouldn’t be a surprise because this is Tom after all, but Chris still wants to correct him, tell him there is nothing to be sorry for in the least and that everything was fine. He keeps quiet. “I-I couldn’t reach the ties to tighten it.” He looks down at his chest and tries on his own to pull the corset up into its correct position, but with no breasts to keep it in place, Tom is clearly having difficulty. “I wanted it to look right when you came to see it. I didn’t want-“
He looks up and Chris is standing right in front of him, fingers brushing against his jaw, down his throat, moving south until they trace his collarbone and, almost hesitantly, go further to graze his nipple and edge towards the silky-smooth fabric of the corset’s black border. Tom can feel himself growing hotter under the touch, that intense gaze, and it takes everything he has not to tense up underneath it all, hearing himself gasp with each touch. He’s nervous again, body wanting to shake and tremble and tell Chris how sorry he was for not be able to put it on all on his own.
But Chris knows better to let him talk, instead he looks up again and smiles at Tom, leaning down to cover his mouth with a kiss before anymore words or apologize could be made.
“I’ll help you.” Is all he says as he pulls away, leaving Tom to lean forward in want of those lips back on his own. A hand runs down his side, makes Tom shiver before tapping on his hip. “Turn around, love.”
The voice is soft, but commanding, and with only a hint of hesitation, Tom did turn around. He climbs up to kneel on the bed, keeping his back straight, shoulders down, so Chris can have the best possible view. He keeps his eyes forward, biting his lip when he feels hands on his hips, pushing the corset up to hug his chest.
“Hold it right there for me.”
Tom nods with the words, slowly, softly, and did just as Chris tells him to. He can feel Chris tugging at the corset’s laces, untangling the mess of string Tom had put them in. His heart is ready to break his ribs, beating so hard Tom thought he might be having a panic attack. This is crazy. Insane. Horribly-
“Alright, I want you to take a breath. I’m going to tighten it, okay? Just tell me if it gets to be too much.”
The words are still soft, trusting, entirely Chris and Tom just can’t say ‘no’. Again, he nods, took a breath just like he is told, and can feel it as his heart skips a beat.
There is a second, just one, where Tom forgets how strong Chris is. Which, in itself, is stupid, but the thought of it comes flooding back as soon as those well-worn hands wrap around the extra length of cord and pull. Tom can’t help but gasp as he feels the air being pressed from his lungs, hand shooting up to his waist to feel it as the corset pulls around his form. There is a second of pause in which Tom scrambles to take in a breath before Chris is pulling again, forcing his body to give way under the force.
“Chri-AH!” He only manages part of a name before it is ripped away from him, feeling the squeeze of fabric and metal to cut his waist line down and keep his posture straight. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing, keeping his heart rate under control, which works for a second as Chris pauses once more.
The grip he has on the laces never loosens, but Chris does stop long enough to lean in and give one shoulder a light kiss. “Are you alright?” He whispers against the skin, sending a thrill of goosebumps along the flesh.
Tom can only pant for a moment, getting his breathing under control before he licks his lips, taking in a slow breath of air, noting how it feels so much more forced and shallow then before. “Yes. Yes, I’m, f-fine.” He blinks, presses a hand to his flat stomach and wonders how small Chris will want him right before he can push the thought away as quickly as possible. “Please,” He has to pause for another breathe, taking it all in strides. “Keep going.”
One more kiss, this time to the other shoulder, and Tom can feel the strings being pulled behind him once more. He tries to stay as still as possible, make even less noise as his waist slowly shrink with Chris tugging and tugging, cutting away at his breathing, making him feel the dig of steel bones and-oh!
His eyes flutter open, looking down to find his cock twitching to life, slowly growing full between his legs with every pull and inhaled struggle for air. His eyes go a bit wide at the sight, mouth hanging slightly open as he watches himself grow hard, can feel the warmth pooling down in his groin and no, no, this can’t actually be happening.
“Tom?”
It took him a second to realize the relentless tugging had stopped and suddenly his breathing, still shallow, was at least event, though he can feel it quickly picking up again as his cock twitches once more. Chris had already tied off the cords, returning once more to kiss at Tom’s shoulders, trailing his mouth down his neck, back and shoulder blades. His fingers trace his waist, running up and down his sides just hard enough for Tom to feel it through the corset. His face grows hot as it flushes, feeling Chris moan against his back.
“You look beautiful, you know.”
His fingers travel lazily, moving up and down to feel the fabric of the corset and the exposed skin of Tom’s body.
“Wrapped up like a present for me.”
Tom’s breathe hitches as he looks down to find Chris’s hands wrapping around his waist, can see how his fingers are still too far apart to touch, even if Tom feels like he can’t breathe and he has to be smaller than that.
“So beautiful.” Chris says, this time in Tom’s ear as he nuzzles at the side of his face.
And, for some reason, Tom feels he might cry.
“But-But I’m not-“ He can’t seem to catch his breath now or find the right words. He’s starting to panic, because this can’t possibly be what Chris wanted. Tom’s never done this before; he’s not small enough to fit into the corset properly, even if Chris tried so hard to buy him the right one he can’t-
“No.” Chris interrupts any train of thought with a hard squeeze to Tom’s hips that makes him wince. “Stop thinking. I can feel your brain turning too much. Stop it right now. You’re beautiful. And perfect and god damnit, Tom, you have no fucking idea, do you?” There’s a spark of anger in his voice that makes Tom wince, thinking for a moment that he has done something wrong, but those hands around his waist are turning him now, forcing him to comply with the movements and face Chris. He doesn’t want to in all truth, but let’s his body be moved anyway. He obeys when Chris’s hands press against his chest, no objections as he is pushed down onto the bed, looking up at Chris who is now kneeling above him. But there is no anger when he looks up, nothing that might look like a sign of irritation; it’s just this awed sort of look, like Chris was looking at something wonderful and amazing for the first time ever. Which, Tom supposed, he was, but he didn’t want to admit that.
Tom blushed harder under Chris’s gaze and Chris simply smiled at it.
“You really have no idea.”
It’s a statement, not a question, so Tom really doesn’t know how to answer when Chris moves to place wet kisses along his hips, biting softly at the skin and sucking until it turns red. Tom gasps softly, as much as the corset will allow, and spreads his legs wider at Chris’s touch, almost conditioned to do so at this point.
“You’re beautiful, Tom.” He can hear the words fall from Chris’s mouth, tickling his skin. “You’re just too daft to see it.” Tom is barely listening, staring up at the ceiling and just feeling what Chris is doing to him; feeling the words spoken into his flesh. “And it’s not the corset.” Tom accidently tenses up at this, which earns him a harder bite as Chris moves down his thighs, bypassing his cock which is hard and fully erect by now. “It’s you. It’s how I thought this blue would bring out your eyes.” Tom blinks and suddenly can’t really remember what his own eye color is. “Or how the black lines would bring out your form better. “ He wants to run his fingers over his own body, attempting to recall what it all might look like. “It’s simple. Elegant. Makes me want to devour you.” Another nip, this one is at the inside of Tom’s thigh and he suddenly thinks that, yes, devour me, please, I’d let you.
Chris’s mouth is taken away and Tom is almost disappointed. It doesn’t last long, however, as he finally glances down from the ceiling to watch Chris suck at his own fingers, liberally coating as his other hand brings one of Tom’s legs up to rest against Chris’s shoulder, making Tom feel so much more exposed then before. He can feel a warmth spreading through his entire body now, some sort of spark that wasn’t there before as he looks to see Chris pull his fingers away and can see them disappear, but now he can feel them so clearly, so suddenly, and Tom is finding it hard to breathe again.
“Chris,” He manages and moans at the feeling of one finger pressing against his entrance. “Please, I can’t-“ His words are cut off, stolen, as that single finger forces it’s way inside him with just the right edge of pain that he needs right now. He groans loud and curls off the bed, the position so much harder to maintain now that he is so tied up within himself, forced into a semi-permanent line that his body doesn’t want to keep. He doesn’t mind now and just wants more.
Which he gets, of course, because Chris is merciful and so very kind to him sometimes. The second finger follows close behind and stabs into Tom with more force than the first; ripping what little air he can manage right out of his lungs. It makes him feel light headed, lucid, and the force of Chris fucking him open is so much stronger now. He scissors his fingers to press against Tom’s inner walls, stretching him out nice and wide which only makes Tom feel like he’s too tight with the corset squeezing around his torso and Chris’s fingers jabbing at his insides. He just about cries when Chris decides to go for his prostate, sending shocks of lust and need coursing up his spine in a way that makes Tom wriggle around, hips canting back into Chris’s hand, wanting to bend to look down at how his own body is opening up to the other, but the bones running up and down his chest keep him away.
“M-more!” Tom moans out, forcing his lungs to stretch just that little bit so he could take in breathe only to press it all out a moment later with filthy, wanton pleads. “Chris, please. More. Need-“
The fingers are removed and Tom gives out a short sob, suddenly feeling loose and horribly empty.
“I know. I know.” The words are only half heard in Tom’s delirious state, hands reaching as far as he could to tug and pull at Chris’s still-covered legs. These actions earn him a little laugh and a soft push away. “Hold on, love. I just-you’re so beautiful-yes, yes, anything, Tom, anything.”
The Brit hears a zipper being pulled down, which is like a choir of angels to his ears along with the shifting of clothing. He’s back to looking at the ceiling again, fearful of looking down now and losing control so soon. When he feels the tip of Chris’s cock nudge at his entrance, Tom’s moaning for it, pressing his hips back as much as he can and begs, pleads with Chris to just do it already.
The first thrust is heaven, the second leaves Tom gasping, and on the third Tom figures he doesn’t have to breathe anymore.
It’s good, too good almost, as Chris’s thick cock fills him up, stretching him in a way that Tom could never image-he blames it on the corset, constricting his airflow which makes everything so much sharper now, but doesn’t really care anymore. Chris is inside him, in and out, in and out, over and over again just like Tom wants. One hand is resting against his hip, making sure every thrust hits its mark and the other moves up to Tom’s cheek, cupping him and squeezing as if to remind Tom that Chris is there. He’s panting, but no oxygen is getting to his lungs. He feels Chris’s thumb press against his bottom lip; dipping in to rub along the edges of his teeth and Tom’s tongue quickly darts forth to wet it, suck it in as Tom moans around it.
Chris’s hips change angles ever so slightly, now brushing against Tom’s prostate on every stroke which is wonderful and terrible at the same time. It sends a wave of pleasure over him, collecting in his belly and moving down quickly, balls drawing up tight to his body, pushing him over the edge now, yes, please, pleasepleaseplease-
Tom comes with a scream, torn from his throat with the last bits of whatever is left in his lungs. Come shoots out across his pelvis, stomach, hitting the fabric of the corset with the last few beads dribbling down his shaft. Tom sags against the bed, moaning in spent pleasure and too much stimulation as Chris still pounds into him. He still can’t manage air and slowly he is starting to care again as his lungs start to burn for it, but can’t get a word out to mention it.
Luckily enough, Chris knows. He always knows and gives a little smile and a groan as he pulls out of Tom’s body, cock still thick and hard between his legs. Strong hands easily flip Tom over onto his stomach where Tom thinks he is going to untie the laces that are squeezing him closed. Instead, Chris takes Tom’s cheeks in hand and spreads them open, seeing how abused and red Tom’s hole is before settling his cock in the cleft of Tom’s ass. He starts moving again, moaning in earnest now as he reaches towards his own climax, loving the sight of Tom’s body being used for his own gain.
Chris spills onto Tom’s lower back with a choked off gasp, some of his come hitting the ends of the black lace. He stares at the mess for a minute, loving the sight of his own seed on Tom’s skin, the forced curves of his waist as it moves up to his shoulders, long neck and curled hair. Only after getting his fill does Chris sigh, reaching up to tug at the cords at Tom’s back until they finally give.
Tom takes in a loud gasp of fresh air, panting heavily for a minute before once more collapsing onto the bed below him. Chris grins at the sight of him, covering Tom’s body with his own and kissing his shoulders.
“You’re beautiful, Tom.”
The smaller male lets out a soft groan before turning his head to look back at Chris. “But…I think I…ruined my-your-the corset.”
“Doesn’t matter. Still beautiful. With or without.”
There’s a long pause of silence and Tom still doesn’t get it, but then again Chris doubts he ever will.
Instead, he just tilts his head further and kisses him soft on the mouth, which Tom returns eagerly, and right now that seems like enough.