Princess Tutu, "Feelings 2: Frustration," Fakir/Mute, NC-17
Part two of Feelings, and proof that I shouldn't get bored at my grandma's.
Feelings Arc
Part Two
Frustration
by Mistress Quickly
Had it not been in his nature to be horrendously jealous of Princess Tutu and the bond she seemed to share with Mute, Fakir might have wanted to thank her. However, as he tended towards jealous and competitive, the last thing on his mind was gratitude.
“Nnh,” Mute gasped, rocking his hips hard enough to off-balance Fakir’s hands, pressing bony fingers deeper into soft flesh. “Fakir ... nhn ...”
Fakir breathed hard through his nose, rubbing the flat of his tongue hard against the underside of Mute’s straining erection, his lips curled so tightly around the shaft that they ached. Even his jealousy of Tutu couldn’t compete with the burning fog of lust in his mind, pulsing through him the pleasure of knowing that it was his name of Mute’s lips and no one else’s; no one else’s honor to give the heartless prince such unrestrained pleasure.
He tightened his grip on Mute’s hips, wondering vaguely if he was bruising the other boy, and if so, if he should stop. A particularly hard thrust pressed Mute’s erection into the tender skin of the back of Fakir’s throat, sending sparks of pain through the dark-haired boy’s flesh to compete with the powerful urge to gag. Growling angrily, Fakir curled his legs beneath him and leaned down directly over Mute’s body, his new position offering him the leverage he needed to thoroughly pin Mute beneath him, holding the pale boy still as he sucked and licked him closer and closer to orgasm.
“Fakir!” Mute groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows, head thrown back in abandon as he cried out, breath coming in harsh, uneven bursts. “Oh, oh, ohh ...”
Fakir relaxed his lips and sucked gently, pulling the salty bitterness from his roommate’s cock onto his tongue with almost lazy ease, holding it there until his throat relaxed enough for him to swallow. He sucked and licked the tip of Mute’s arousal until the pale boy began to twitch, the rough sensation of his tongue against the overly-sensitized skin turning quickly from pleasure to pain. With a sigh, he pulled his mouth away and swallowed several times, dulling the tang of semen to a bitter aftertaste, then stretched up the bed to lie beside his roommate.
“Better?” he asked quietly, brushing a sweat-sticky lock of pale hair from Mute’s cheek.
“Maybe,” Mute answered, his voice its usual monotone, albeit a touch ragged from his cries of bliss.
“Moron,” Fakir grumbled, wishing a little guiltily that his roommate had the capacity to appreciate such a performance of fellatio; that his roommate could be considered his lover.
“Go to sleep, Mute,” he sighed, ignoring his own erection as he tugged the quilt over their bodies, idly watching Mute’s eyelashes flutter down to rest on his passion-flushed cheeks, glowing like marble in the light of the nearly-full moon.
Had it not been in his nature to be horrendously jealous of Princess Tutu and the bond she seemed to share with Mute, Fakir might have wanted to thank her. Mute’s feelings of frustration had been awfully entertaining.
Even if it had been, just a little, contagious.
~*~*~*~
Ha! You thought this was just another of my little thinly-veiled ploys to write the boys giving each other head, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Well ... it was. So HA!!! *gloats*
Feelings Arc
Part Two
Frustration
by Mistress Quickly
Had it not been in his nature to be horrendously jealous of Princess Tutu and the bond she seemed to share with Mute, Fakir might have wanted to thank her. However, as he tended towards jealous and competitive, the last thing on his mind was gratitude.
“Nnh,” Mute gasped, rocking his hips hard enough to off-balance Fakir’s hands, pressing bony fingers deeper into soft flesh. “Fakir ... nhn ...”
Fakir breathed hard through his nose, rubbing the flat of his tongue hard against the underside of Mute’s straining erection, his lips curled so tightly around the shaft that they ached. Even his jealousy of Tutu couldn’t compete with the burning fog of lust in his mind, pulsing through him the pleasure of knowing that it was his name of Mute’s lips and no one else’s; no one else’s honor to give the heartless prince such unrestrained pleasure.
He tightened his grip on Mute’s hips, wondering vaguely if he was bruising the other boy, and if so, if he should stop. A particularly hard thrust pressed Mute’s erection into the tender skin of the back of Fakir’s throat, sending sparks of pain through the dark-haired boy’s flesh to compete with the powerful urge to gag. Growling angrily, Fakir curled his legs beneath him and leaned down directly over Mute’s body, his new position offering him the leverage he needed to thoroughly pin Mute beneath him, holding the pale boy still as he sucked and licked him closer and closer to orgasm.
“Fakir!” Mute groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows, head thrown back in abandon as he cried out, breath coming in harsh, uneven bursts. “Oh, oh, ohh ...”
Fakir relaxed his lips and sucked gently, pulling the salty bitterness from his roommate’s cock onto his tongue with almost lazy ease, holding it there until his throat relaxed enough for him to swallow. He sucked and licked the tip of Mute’s arousal until the pale boy began to twitch, the rough sensation of his tongue against the overly-sensitized skin turning quickly from pleasure to pain. With a sigh, he pulled his mouth away and swallowed several times, dulling the tang of semen to a bitter aftertaste, then stretched up the bed to lie beside his roommate.
“Better?” he asked quietly, brushing a sweat-sticky lock of pale hair from Mute’s cheek.
“Maybe,” Mute answered, his voice its usual monotone, albeit a touch ragged from his cries of bliss.
“Moron,” Fakir grumbled, wishing a little guiltily that his roommate had the capacity to appreciate such a performance of fellatio; that his roommate could be considered his lover.
“Go to sleep, Mute,” he sighed, ignoring his own erection as he tugged the quilt over their bodies, idly watching Mute’s eyelashes flutter down to rest on his passion-flushed cheeks, glowing like marble in the light of the nearly-full moon.
Had it not been in his nature to be horrendously jealous of Princess Tutu and the bond she seemed to share with Mute, Fakir might have wanted to thank her. Mute’s feelings of frustration had been awfully entertaining.
Even if it had been, just a little, contagious.
~*~*~*~
Ha! You thought this was just another of my little thinly-veiled ploys to write the boys giving each other head, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Well ... it was. So HA!!! *gloats*