(no subject)
I dropped this into a post that darling themoononastick made, in which she shared the recent hi res chair!porn pics of Dom and Viggo. My anal retentive need for organization compels me to repost here in order to tag and archive.
This is still for her. For she owns me. ¡♥!
Kinetic
This nick in the upholstery, right beside his knee, always reminded him of Dom. For one full week after it had been made, Viggo managed to keep the small fleck of hard black nail varnish in the crook of the tiny hole, caught in the beige fuzz that framed it. Even now, he could smell sweat that was not his own. His mind flashed photobrilliant with images of Dom's bent fingers, more squared than curved as they pressed and dug and locked, trying to steady his shaking body.
***
To Viggo, Dom epitomized the beauty of contradictions: the fluidity of angles as they interlocked, the awkward meeting point of curves. He fit into the chair yet fought against it. Legs dangling over the arm of the chair, leather heels kicking backward for purchase, forearms gone red and roped from gripping so hard. Defying gravity. Just defiant.
Beneath him, Viggo pushed him further, hips shoving upward, up sharp and fast. His back ached from the pressure of the chair's edge, from the weight of Dom straining above him yet sinking deeper each time, back for more. With his leg on the floor, he braced himself. He slid a hand down into the V of Dom's hip, grabbing hold. His fingertips brushed against his own cock, sliding in and out of Dom, fucking him into the air, into nothing.
Like this, he pinned Dom to him like a butterfly. All gold and black wings, paper rough, and wet bodied. It's no wonder a part of him would break off.
***
When he'd grown to miss that black fleck just enough, Viggo would invite Dom back, pin him to the chair and break him once again.
For reference (and because they are so damn pretty), these are the pics that inspired me the most:
This is still for her. For she owns me. ¡♥!
Kinetic
This nick in the upholstery, right beside his knee, always reminded him of Dom. For one full week after it had been made, Viggo managed to keep the small fleck of hard black nail varnish in the crook of the tiny hole, caught in the beige fuzz that framed it. Even now, he could smell sweat that was not his own. His mind flashed photobrilliant with images of Dom's bent fingers, more squared than curved as they pressed and dug and locked, trying to steady his shaking body.
***
To Viggo, Dom epitomized the beauty of contradictions: the fluidity of angles as they interlocked, the awkward meeting point of curves. He fit into the chair yet fought against it. Legs dangling over the arm of the chair, leather heels kicking backward for purchase, forearms gone red and roped from gripping so hard. Defying gravity. Just defiant.
Beneath him, Viggo pushed him further, hips shoving upward, up sharp and fast. His back ached from the pressure of the chair's edge, from the weight of Dom straining above him yet sinking deeper each time, back for more. With his leg on the floor, he braced himself. He slid a hand down into the V of Dom's hip, grabbing hold. His fingertips brushed against his own cock, sliding in and out of Dom, fucking him into the air, into nothing.
Like this, he pinned Dom to him like a butterfly. All gold and black wings, paper rough, and wet bodied. It's no wonder a part of him would break off.
***
When he'd grown to miss that black fleck just enough, Viggo would invite Dom back, pin him to the chair and break him once again.
For reference (and because they are so damn pretty), these are the pics that inspired me the most:
