[RPscene] - [Bruce/Yazoo] - How the Game is Played
Title: How the Game is Played
Authors: princenolonger and brothers_three
Chronology: post-FT
Warnings: NC17 liek woah
Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman Begins)/Yazoo (Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children)
Standard disclaimer: Not making money here, not claiming ownership. Not mine, but I wish they were.
Summary: When Bruce still has work to do and Yazoo wants to Play, Yazoo says he can wait. Bruce decides to test that theory.
Late afternoon found Bruce finished with work but for a few calls from overseas that might come in at any time. He'd retreated to his room for a bit of quiet meditation, and found Yazoo there, lounging shirtless in the leather wingback by the window. At his speculative look, and coy smile, Bruce shook his head, allowing his own expression to grow rueful.
"I still have a bit of work to do." Nothing that wouldn't keep, but sometimes letting Yazoo think he'd pulled him away from work was good for Yazoo. And sometimes letting him pull him away from work was very good for Bruce.
Yazoo stretched and reclined further in the chair. "I can wait."
"I'm tempted to test that theory. How long can you wait?" Standing at his side, Bruce brushed his fingers over Yazoo's groin.
A sharp inhale of breath, Yazoo let it out with a low groan. "How long do you want me to?"
He leaned over to deliver a soft but lingering kiss to his mouth. "Until you can't breathe for sheer desire."
"Mmmm...sounds like a challenge," Yazoo whispered softly against Bruce's lips.
He shook his head, smiling, then pulled back from the kiss -- only to stroke Yazoo's chest instead, fingers seeking and circling a nipple. "A game, lover."
Stretching under Bruce's hand, arching into it, he gave Bruce a lazy smile. "I like games."
"As do I." He gave a dark smile of his own; powerful, confident in this game with no losers. Watching Yazoo, Bruce unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide down his arms, catching it on one hand. "Especially games with no purpose beyond hearing you undone with pleasure."
Yazoo reached up to stroke his fingers down the now bare chest. The tips traced over the cut of muscle, a body Bruce took care to keep fit so beautifully. Laughing lightly, he lifted up to kiss Bruce, slow, deep and full of need and desire.
Bruce flowed into the kiss as smoothly as though it had been his intention, moving to catch Yazoo's hair and wrap it around his hand before deepening the kiss. Taking Yazoo's mouth not roughly, but thoroughly.
Falling into the kiss, Yazoo moaned softly, the vibration deep and swallowed between them. Hands rose to hook behind Bruce's shoulders, his nails digging into the skin. Yazoo lifted again, beneath Bruce and tore his mouth away to just brush lips together. "Touch me, Bruce."
The small pain of nails in skin inflaming him, Bruce grazed his hands over Yazoo's shoulders and down his arms, tugging. The shirt still in his grasp brushed suggestively against Yazoo's ass; his eyes filled with heated intent as he locked their gazes together. "Shall we play, Yazoo?" There was something intimately threatening in how he said it - nothing of harm or cruel intent, but his voice filled with power and promise.
"Mmmm....if you're up for it." Yazoo smiled coyly. "I know you're a busy man."
Bruce snaked an arm around Yazoo's waist, swift, and crushed him against his body. The move left no question but that he was hard, hungry...'up for it'. "I am busy, but this game, played properly, requires delays and unpredictability is a virtue."
He feigned nonunderstanding. "Oooooh. Well then, Master Bruce...how do we play this game of yours?
"Careful, lover. I could get to like the sound of that." He dipped his head to catch the pale, perfect skin of Yazoo's throat in his teeth, while pulling Yazoo's wrists together behind his back.
His hands caught, Yazoo arched beneath Bruce again, his head craned back to expose his neck. "Could you?" His voice was rough and breath was coming in heavy pants. "What then?"
Bruce deftly twisted the shirt around Yazoo's wrists. It wouldn't even begin to hold him if he chose not to be held, but that was part of the game. Answering Yazoo's question with husky, intimate question: "Would you like that, Yazoo? Being naked, aroused, riding the edge of need until you were blind with it. Serving me on your knees, unless or until I decided to fuck you?"
Taking a step back to survey his handiwork, he circled. An intense surge of desire swamped Bruce. "God, Yazoo, you're beautiful."
Bound, not held, it was the idea that intrigued him and he remained still. Moving, but for the benefit of the eyes that watched him, he shifted beneath Bruce's gaze, lips parted and panting. The words turned him on, just the thought of any one of those things...and he moaned low, his tongue snaking out to lick at his bottom lip before he spoke. "And you think you can do these things to me?"
Bruce raked his gaze over Yazoo's bare chest - perfect - he smiled, then stepped around behind him. He lifted the hair off an equally perfect shoulder, pulling it aside to expose more of his throat. But instead of kissing or biting, he brushed his other hand over Yazoo's leather-clad cock before beginning the slow work of one-handedly removing the leathers. "I know I can. You want it." His voice came quiet, soft, a seductive whisper in full confidence. "Knowing that you could stop me, but that you aren't, turns you on. Your awareness that you like me taking control is what makes you so hard for me."
Yazoo wasn't moving any longer, simply held in Bruce's thrall. His head fell back to rest against Bruce's shoulder. This felt far too good to fight him right now. It was true, what Bruce said and he was so hard his leather was confining him. His hips thrust forward into Bruce's hand as if to get him to hurry, his own impatience starting to take over.
Bruce let Yazoo lean against him, knowing the weight of desire and anticipation, and knowing too the need for grounding as it grew. It aroused him, also, to have Yazoo's hands pinned between their bodies, unable to reach Bruce's cock growing harder with Yazoo's every rasped breath. Following the line up to Yazoo's throat, he laid a trail of gently stinging bites along the pale shoulder beneath his mouth, while his other hand stroked down his lover's body to join the first and aid it in removing leather from rocking hips.
"Bruce," Yazoo growled low in warning. The teasing was eating him alive, along with Bruce's mouth and he ached, from head to foot. His hands clenched reflexively in fists, wanting to touch Bruce, wanting to hurry him along. A game, yes but now Yazoo wanted more, he was impatient for more and demanded it in the poise of his body and in the tone of his voice.
Bruce grinned, briefly, against Yazoo's shoulder, before growling softly: "Master Bruce."
Pushing the leather clear of Yazoo's hips, he squatted to remove them, encouraging Yazoo to use him for balance as he stepped out of the leather, boots already having been removed. And as he slowly stood again, his lips and tongue whispered over Yazoo's thighs, dwelling on his ass, pausing to suck at a tensed thumb, then up his back to his shoulder again. His hands danced over his legs and groin, teasing around his cock, and up his chest. But before Yazoo could protest again, one hand loosely circled the stiff cock now freed to the open air.
Wet on his thumb then warmth around his cock as the rest of his exposed body cooled in the air. Yazoo thrust again, his hips flexing and tightening, into the channel formed by Bruce's hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and his teeth clenched tight.
A few short strokes, and then, conveniently, Bruce's cell chimed. No one important enough to answer the phone for any other time, but it suited him to make Yazoo wait longer. And it would suit Yazoo, too, when he came shuddering and sobbing for him. As he withdrew the phone from his pocket, he nudged Yazoo toward the bed. "Face down, lover. I won't be long, and you'll be warmer."
Then he flipped open the phone. "Wei, Bruce." His business associate in China began to speak in rapid-fire Mandarin, and Bruce listened attentively but his gaze never left Yazoo.
"Fuck," Yazoo ground out and his eyes opened. He didn't want Bruce to answer the phone and when he heard the chirp and the soft greeting, Yazoo frowned. He craned his neck to look at Bruce in frustration, his breath hissing softly through his teeth.
With the nudge, Yazoo lurched toward the bed. Half way across the room, he stopped and turned to regard Bruce with an impassive look that melted away into an amused expression. Turning away again, Yazoo stood there, looking straight ahead.
"Excuse me a moment," Bruce said into the phone. Covering it, he arched an eyebrow at Yazoo, humor and wicked intent warming his eyes. He went to Yazoo to offer him a hand in complying, and a little encouragement in the form of a swift kiss.
Meeting Bruce's gaze again, he endured the kiss with detatchment. But he did move to the bed and slowly climbed onto the mattress to situate in the the middle. With a tip, Yazoo collapsed onto the bed, face down as Bruce instructed and he wiggled for a moment to get comforable, making sure he wasn't laying on anything that would dig, poke or twist later.
The last had his head, as he flipped his hair out of his face, resting easily on a pillow. His gaze was dark, eyes glittering as he watched Bruce take his phone call.
Bruce sat at the edge of the bed while he took the call, pretending to be unmoved by the sight of his beautiful Yazoo bound for him. His cock, which twitched and throbbed against his belly but held snug by his boxer-briefs, gave the lie to it.
He focused his attention on the call, because will was everything and if he'd taken the call he had a responsibility to it. Fortunately, the man wanted simply to report. So Bruce listened, let his mind absorb the information, and when Abel Chen had finished, he said 'thank you' and hung up the phone.
Two desires warred in him. One to strip off his slacks and take Yazoo right now. The other to ride this as far as he could take it, push Yazoo as far to the edge as he could go. In the end, the remembered sound of Yazoo's pleasure and the thought of him in his arms, after, completely vulnerable and open, helped Bruce stay the course.
Rising, he went to his nightstand, retrieved the lube and the book he'd been reading Yazoo before bed the previous night. Bruce sat again, laying both items in clear view - only long enough to give Yazoo a chance to recognize both before he put the lube to proper use to slick the fingers of one hand. Then he lifted the book in his other hand and began to read.
Yazoo thought many uncharitable things about Bruce and his hips lifted in response. He ground his teeth together and closed his eyes again to wait for the familiar cool of lube to tease at him and make him ready for Bruce. All the while Bruce read to him as if there were nothing else for them to do that day.
Well there was. Fucking him was on the top of Yazoo's list at the moment and his breath hissed softly while he waited for it.
He could almost hear Yazoo cursing him from the hiss of indrawn breath and the tension in his forearms and fists. It only made him harder to know how much Yazoo wanted to be fucked, and more determined to draw this out.
Still, without some escalation, Yazoo would only become frustrated, not more aroused. So, moving into a position where he could reach with ease, Bruce continued to read. But while he read he slid his fingers up the crack of Yazoo's ass. Slowly, idly, as though he had no intentions other than to pet him. Then as he turned a page he slid the tip of his thumb into Yazoo.
No matter how much his hips rose to encourage...demand...Bruce do something, the man took his infuriating time and Yazoo snarled softly. A soft caress over his hip and ass, sliding along the cleft, he lifted again, and Bruce seemed to dance away again, touching only enough to drive him crazy.
He fell still for a moment, however, when Bruce's finger entered him and he grunted softly in response, the fingers on his hand clenching and unclenching rhythmically.
For a while longer, Bruce read, occasionally pressing deeper into Yazoo or withdrawing. No particular pattern to his choices, and the only intention to keep Yazoo from relaxing into a comfort zone. The lack of knowledge of what would come and when worked to Bruce's advantage, making seconds into minutes and minutes into hours.
After perhaps ten minutes, he pressed his thumb deep into Yazoo's ass, and gave him just enough time to adjust before thrusting three times in quick succession before withdrawing it completely. Forcing his breathing even, as though the feel of Yazoo tight around him affected him not at all, Bruce reached over with his clean hand and straightened a snarl of hair.
"It's a shame it's all tangled." It wasn't. "It needs brushing so it'll wrap around my hand easier." He rose and padded to the bathroom, leaving Yazoo to think of all the things he might do with the brush that had nothing to do with hair. Bruce wouldn't, because in his mind this game had to do with what he could do to Yazoo; his hands, his mouth, his voice, his brain, his cock - but Yazoo didn't know that, and his thoughts ought to lead him to whatever aroused him the most.
Bruce's finger in his ass kept Yazoo's attention. He lifted his hips in a physical demand for more but Bruce obviously wasn't going to be pressured. Then the bed dipped and the warmth from Bruce's body left him as he went to the bathroom to get the brush.
Craning his head to watch Bruce, he couldn't see the other man unless he twisted on the bed and it put his body in an uncomfortable position. He stretched back out again and closed his eyes, all the things that Bruce could do with the brush flowing through his mind and making his body throb harder.
Retrieving the hairbush, Bruce paused in the doorway to revel in the strength and power and beauty arrayed on his bed. By choice. For him. Which moved him more, affection, desire, or power, he couldn't have said, but the entire package made him so hard and hungry, he almost set aside the game.
Almost.
Instead, he strolled as nonchalantly as he could manage to Yazoo's side, brush in hand, and stopped where Yazoo would have to crane his head uncomfortably to see him but could if he chose. Then stripped off his slacks and his boxer-briefs and tossing them on the bed beside Yazoo. With an audible groan, he wrapped his hand around his dick and began to stroke.
"You make me so hard, Yazoo. I should I let you blow me. Make you kneel for me, with your hands tied behind your back, cock leaking and you knowing you're not getting fucked until I'm ready again."
The way Bruce sounded, Yazoo almost came undone. God, when Bruce talked like that, it just turned him on. "Shit," he said through his teeth.
Fighting against his wrist restraints, Yazoo wiggled around, trying to get Bruce back into his field of vision. Bruce was teasing him and it was driving him crazy. He bucked on the bed and shifted, which only made his cock rub against the blanket and sent him higher. "Bruce." The name came out as a growl and a warning.
"Fuck, that's pretty." And, god, it was. Yazoo struggling - mostly against himself - ass begging for the plowing it would definitely get soon, because fuck if he could wait much longer.
Gritting his teeth, Bruce released his hold on his cock, then settled on the bed beside Yazoo. He set his hips even with Yazoo's shoulder and angled toward him, so Yazoo could see what this did to him, would have to see, unless he turned away - an admission of need that would have Bruce touching and soothing and taking him in a heartbeat.
At the moment, his lover teetered close to that edge but not at it. So Bruce leaned over him, gathered up his hair. And brushed it - with slow, steady, deliberate strokes that trailed the length of Yazoo's back and stopped just above his ass.
Yazoo stopped moving when Bruce touched him and he relaxed against the mattress. Letting his eyes drift shut, he felt the brush pulling over his hair, through the strands in soothing motions. This dynamic wasn't necessarily different between them but the situation was new. Yazoo wasn't quite sure what was going to happen but for the moment it was in a place he could handle it. Except for the impatiently waiting to feel Bruce plowing his ass. That was pretty much a given.
Opening his eyes, Yazoo's gaze held defiance in them and he looked up at Bruce. "Want to dress me up like a doll? Set me against the pillow to look pretty for you?"
Bruce gave Yazoo a look like he might be considering it. "And then would I call you 'Kiki'? No. Once was enough, lover. But I wouldn't mind tying you to the headboard."
A sly smile curved his lips as he set the brush down and took hold of Yazoo's wrists. How far could he push this? "Roll over, Yazoo. And put your arms over your head." He tugged out the loose knot and waited to see if Yazoo would comply.
"Would you want to fuck her?" Yazoo asked as the bindings around his wrist loosened. His arms fell to the side and it took a moment for him to gain his muscle control back and he lifted up onto his elbows, giving Bruce a challenging look, as if to ask, 'what will you do if I don't?'
However, Yazoo didn't push things. He was still willing to see where this went and if Bruce really wanted to explore these things. It was a new side to his lover and it intrigued him to see where Bruce would go next.
Rolling over onto his back, he stretched out on the mattress, his toes brushing the footboard. He reached high overhead and placed his hands, one nested on the palm of the other and he waited.
"Why would I want to fuck her when I can have you?" Seeing Yazoo stretched out, exposed and trusting, or at least willing to play along for now, he amended, "when I will have you." Then looped his dress shirt around obediently offered wrists, tied it snug, and half-knotted the sleeves to the slats. Yazoo could easily pull free if he chose, but the binding was tight enough to feel secure and somewhat restraining.
As before, Bruce raked his gaze down Yazoo's body, but this time followed with his fingertips. Soft, teasing strokes over his chest and stomach, and down his thighs. Back up his cock, a slightly firmer stroke, but still tender, almost reverent. And all the while, he held their gazes locked, dark, heated desire showing in his eyes.
Yazoo tested the knots and how tightly he was held in place, craning his neck to inspect them. Smiling, he settled on the bed and met Bruce's gaze with the same intensity he could feel sparking between them, channeling back to his lover. The soft strokes, the trails of fingertips caused his breath to catch in his throat and he arched, wanting to feel more.
There would be words if Bruce teased him for too long. But at the moment, Yazoo reveled in being at the center of Bruce's world, of his focus.
Placing his hands on either side of Yazoo's chest, Bruce leaned down and took his mouth, giving his own need for Yazoo free rein in the kiss. Fierce, hungry, passionate - fucking that beautiful, sensual mouth that occupied so much of his mental space.
And while he said 'want you, need you' with his lips and teeth and tongue, Bruce straddled Yazoo's thighs. Keeping his weight on his hands and knees, he brushed the head of his aching cock along Yazoo's, teasing himself as much as his lover. But it was Yazoo's pleasure he sought. His own would wait.
With another impatient inhale, Yazoo lifted his hips. The touch along his dick, Bruce's tapping at him so gently yet so evident was maddening. He lifted his head and crushed back against the kiss, taking ruthlessly what was given to him and he ate it up, not wanting to spill one drop from the talented mouth.
A mouth he wanted to feel going down on him. Or slick across his stomach and chest. Just some place, touching along his body because he ached for Bruce's attention. Tearing his mouth away, he looked up at Bruce, his breathing heavy and his eyes dark and wide. "Fuck me, Bruce."
"Not yet." Not even 'soon', because the waiting and the not knowing would bring Yazoo that much closer to the edge Bruce wanted him on. This game had moved from playful to powerful with that one kiss, and Bruce could and would exploit that to make Yazoo come apart for him.
Where his fingers had brushed, his lips and tongue went in earnest. Dragging over Yazoo's throat, and sucking it into his mouth. Over his chest, in long flat strokes across hardening nipples then rough teasing with his teeth. Down and down, his dick leaking on Yazoo's thighs as he trailed open-mouthed kisses over the hard planes of his lover's abdomen.
Bruce paused, hands splayed beside Yazoo's hips, lips hovering just out of reach, then collected Yazoo's gaze before parting his lips and letting his breath spill, warm and damp, along his cock.
Not yet? Yazoo thought his mind would unravel from the half touches he was feeling over his body. The breath on his dick was teasing and he lifted from the bed, just wanting to feel even Bruce's mouth brush his flesh.
If a year ago, he had been told he'd be doing this, allowing a man to restrain him even if he could easily get out of it if he so chose, Yazoo would have laughed at them. No man restrained him. No man would hold him back.
And yet, that wasn't what Bruce was doing. It was a game. Perhaps even part of The Game. And it was exciting and enticing and it had Yazoo so turned on he was almost blind from his desire.
Pleasing Yazoo, making him come, always turned Bruce on. But this, the incredible power of having Yazoo aching, begging with his body for Bruce's touch, it was like nothing else. He could've come just from the drag of his dick against the bedspread as he moved with Yazoo, keep his mouth just out of reach. But he fought down his needs, and focused on Yazoo.
It'd been two years at least since he'd had cock in his mouth, and always it'd been about someone proving their power over him. This time, it would be about pleasure. Yazoo's. And Bruce's power to give it to him.
One long, slow swipe of his tongue from root to crown, then he withdrew again, blowing cool air over the wet streak he'd left.
Soft curses spilled from Yazoo's lips, his hips lifting again, needing to be closer to Bruce's mouth, wanting to be in his mouth. Fuck, he wanted Bruce so much.
He watched down the length of his body, the dark head moving over his hips, over his cock and Yazoo moaned aloud. Clenching his teeth, his stomach muscles flexed and he lifted his legs to wrap around Bruce's back in a tight grip.
Even in this awkward position, Yazoo could keep him here. Pitted strength to strength, Bruce wasn't a match for him. On the other hand, no one said he had to play fair. Unless he would pull his hands free, Yazoo couldn't control Bruce's head. And yet again, he'd expressed an unmistakable desire by wrapping his legs around him.
Even within the scope of a game he hadn't yet won, Bruce could encourage that - sharing of needs and desires so he wouldn't have to guess how to take care of Yazoo. This time he added gentle suction to the long stroke, drawing Yazoo into his mouth and closing his lips around him. Only long enough to drag his mouth the length of his shaft and pull free.
"Ask for what you need." Coaxing, not yet a command, but Bruce's voice filled with intimate power and the dark throb of his own needs barely held at bay.
He loved it when Bruce talked like that. When he sounded like that. Like dark chocolate, thick and melted and warm. It excited him and turned him on. And when Bruce's mouth slid down his cock he moaned so wantonly Yazoo had to wonder if it was his voice at all.
"Suck me, Bruce," Yazoo said. His voice was hoarse and low, filled with his own dark desire and need for the man he had trapped between his legs. He would take Bruce anyway he could get him, just as long as he stayed at the center of the man's universe, Yazoo would do whatever he wanted.
With a knowing smile, Bruce fished the lube from under his hip and slicked his hand again. Ignoring the awkward angle, he reached between them and took Yazoo's ass again with first one, then two fingers. Swift, but not rough in any way that might harm Yazoo.
"That's right, lover. Tell me what you need." Still encouraging, rather than demanding, but the tight heat around his fingers made it harder and harder to play. He wanted his tongue in Yazoo's mouth, his dick in his ass. Wanted to fuck him hard and deep until he came apart.
But for the moment, he worked his tongue over Yazoo's cock, lingering behind the head, and lifting him into his mouth. Short gliding suction, never taking him deep, even as he worked his fingers into him - giving Yazoo some of what he needed, but not all. Not quite yet.
It was getting harder with every slide over his dick to keep it wound tight. Bruce's mouth felt so blessedly warm and soft and he needed to fill it, to come, to find release and stop the sweet torment that shivered through his hips and threatened to rob him of his sanity.
"Bruce," he said softly. He was already panting, arms pulled tight against the shirt that held him. "Bruce," he repeated again.
With that soft request, the game shifted. Power blurred. Yazoo craved release, and for his body, any release would do. But his mouth, his mind, had asked for him.
He answered with his fingers first, thrusting deep to command Yazoo’s attention and say ‘I’m here,’ and then began to build his climax. Slow, hard, with fingers curving in and out, gaining speed with each stroke.
Adding sensation on sensation, his lips dusted the length of Yazoo’s shaft, sweet-soft in invitation. “Come for me, lover. I want it.” Then opened over his head and drew him in, letting his teeth scrape gently and his tongue flick through the slit - a last bit of torment before taking Yazoo in earnest. His throat softened, opened to Yazoo, even as he fucked him deep with his fingers.
Nothing playful in how Bruce worked him, everything focused laser-sharp. Lips, teeth, tongue, hand - all extensions of his brain, telling Yazoo that he would be what Yazoo needed.
Yazoo's legs fell away, landing heavily on the bed as he thrust up into Bruce's mouth. Fingers fucking him, Bruce's hot mouth sliding down over him, Yazoo thought his body would split. He wanted to feel Bruce's dick in his ass but damned if that talented mouth and those fingers weren't doing a fine job of getting him off.
He jerked, his hands snapping against the shirt restraint and he pulled to try to free himself. But his attention was divided, the attempts to get free were half hearted and soon robbed completely as he felt his orgasm organizing so quickly he had no time to think, to speak, to warn Bruce. It was there and no stopping it as his body arched from the bed.
He shouted, Bruce's name echoed through the room in rapid succession and he came so hard he thought he'd pass out from the intensity. Hanging in the air, his body shuddered as he released into Bruce's mouth and falling to the mattress when he was finally spent, his chest heaving from catching his breath.
Hearing Yazoo's breathless cries, his name repeated over and over, god, it was powerful, heady. It made him hungry for Yazoo's climax, demanding it with his fingers, inviting it with his mouth. And when he did come, Bruce drew it out, coaxing him to let it all go - not just the hot, thick fluid that slipped over his tongue and down his throat, but the tension in his body, the pent-up need. He followed Yazoo up to the edge, over, and down, slowing with him and milking the last of his pleasure before withdrawing.
Another time he might've lingered over the move back up Yazoo's body, rubbing his own aching cock along hard muscles or thrusting between his thighs. But his lover had been bound too long and that was a first priority. No sooner had he swallowed Yazoo's release, than Bruce was over him, untying him and covering him with his body for grounding and warmth.
Limply, Yazoo was able to get his arms moving again, draping them heavily over Bruce's shoulders in an attempt at an embrace. A clumsy attempt at any rate. Sweat was sticky over his skin and starting to cool, his heart still hammering in his chest. His fingers combed through the back of Bruce's dark, damp hair. "Fuck," he whispered softly.
The press of Bruce's cock against him was in sharp relief to the languid and liquid feeling coursing through his body. "Bruce." Yazoo's mouth was close to his ear to breathe across it gently. "Take what you want," he said.
Yazoo lay sated and open in his arms, the rightness of it surrounding them both. "I have what I want." It wasn't a protest or a denial, simply a statement of fact before taking his mouth, slow and sweet - to convey without words the powerful pleasure he found in bringing his lover to this place.
He lifted himself off Yazoo long enough to slick his cock, then gentle but insistent, pressed home. Despite the throbbing ache and the tight heat of Yazoo around him, Bruce was in no hurry. Being in Yazoo, while seeing the soft glow in his eyes made this taking less about getting off and more about intimacy and sharing. Slow thrusts, almost lazy except for the completeness of the strokes, each one burying him deeper and deeper, as though somehow he could touch Yazoo's heart if he just went deep enough.
Their bodies rocked together, each thrust driving deeper into Yazoo and taking him higher. Sex before had never been this sweet. Bruce took his time and the sensations were allowed to linger, like a light fragrance. It wasn't hurried or frantic.
Which sometimes was nice, when the driving need to feel the sex and the sweat and their bodies collide was all.
But now, the way Bruce took him, solid and strong, with purpose and meaning...Yazoo closed his eyes and allowed himself to be...loved.
Authors: princenolonger and brothers_three
Chronology: post-FT
Warnings: NC17 liek woah
Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman Begins)/Yazoo (Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children)
Standard disclaimer: Not making money here, not claiming ownership. Not mine, but I wish they were.
Summary: When Bruce still has work to do and Yazoo wants to Play, Yazoo says he can wait. Bruce decides to test that theory.
Late afternoon found Bruce finished with work but for a few calls from overseas that might come in at any time. He'd retreated to his room for a bit of quiet meditation, and found Yazoo there, lounging shirtless in the leather wingback by the window. At his speculative look, and coy smile, Bruce shook his head, allowing his own expression to grow rueful.
"I still have a bit of work to do." Nothing that wouldn't keep, but sometimes letting Yazoo think he'd pulled him away from work was good for Yazoo. And sometimes letting him pull him away from work was very good for Bruce.
Yazoo stretched and reclined further in the chair. "I can wait."
"I'm tempted to test that theory. How long can you wait?" Standing at his side, Bruce brushed his fingers over Yazoo's groin.
A sharp inhale of breath, Yazoo let it out with a low groan. "How long do you want me to?"
He leaned over to deliver a soft but lingering kiss to his mouth. "Until you can't breathe for sheer desire."
"Mmmm...sounds like a challenge," Yazoo whispered softly against Bruce's lips.
He shook his head, smiling, then pulled back from the kiss -- only to stroke Yazoo's chest instead, fingers seeking and circling a nipple. "A game, lover."
Stretching under Bruce's hand, arching into it, he gave Bruce a lazy smile. "I like games."
"As do I." He gave a dark smile of his own; powerful, confident in this game with no losers. Watching Yazoo, Bruce unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide down his arms, catching it on one hand. "Especially games with no purpose beyond hearing you undone with pleasure."
Yazoo reached up to stroke his fingers down the now bare chest. The tips traced over the cut of muscle, a body Bruce took care to keep fit so beautifully. Laughing lightly, he lifted up to kiss Bruce, slow, deep and full of need and desire.
Bruce flowed into the kiss as smoothly as though it had been his intention, moving to catch Yazoo's hair and wrap it around his hand before deepening the kiss. Taking Yazoo's mouth not roughly, but thoroughly.
Falling into the kiss, Yazoo moaned softly, the vibration deep and swallowed between them. Hands rose to hook behind Bruce's shoulders, his nails digging into the skin. Yazoo lifted again, beneath Bruce and tore his mouth away to just brush lips together. "Touch me, Bruce."
The small pain of nails in skin inflaming him, Bruce grazed his hands over Yazoo's shoulders and down his arms, tugging. The shirt still in his grasp brushed suggestively against Yazoo's ass; his eyes filled with heated intent as he locked their gazes together. "Shall we play, Yazoo?" There was something intimately threatening in how he said it - nothing of harm or cruel intent, but his voice filled with power and promise.
"Mmmm....if you're up for it." Yazoo smiled coyly. "I know you're a busy man."
Bruce snaked an arm around Yazoo's waist, swift, and crushed him against his body. The move left no question but that he was hard, hungry...'up for it'. "I am busy, but this game, played properly, requires delays and unpredictability is a virtue."
He feigned nonunderstanding. "Oooooh. Well then, Master Bruce...how do we play this game of yours?
"Careful, lover. I could get to like the sound of that." He dipped his head to catch the pale, perfect skin of Yazoo's throat in his teeth, while pulling Yazoo's wrists together behind his back.
His hands caught, Yazoo arched beneath Bruce again, his head craned back to expose his neck. "Could you?" His voice was rough and breath was coming in heavy pants. "What then?"
Bruce deftly twisted the shirt around Yazoo's wrists. It wouldn't even begin to hold him if he chose not to be held, but that was part of the game. Answering Yazoo's question with husky, intimate question: "Would you like that, Yazoo? Being naked, aroused, riding the edge of need until you were blind with it. Serving me on your knees, unless or until I decided to fuck you?"
Taking a step back to survey his handiwork, he circled. An intense surge of desire swamped Bruce. "God, Yazoo, you're beautiful."
Bound, not held, it was the idea that intrigued him and he remained still. Moving, but for the benefit of the eyes that watched him, he shifted beneath Bruce's gaze, lips parted and panting. The words turned him on, just the thought of any one of those things...and he moaned low, his tongue snaking out to lick at his bottom lip before he spoke. "And you think you can do these things to me?"
Bruce raked his gaze over Yazoo's bare chest - perfect - he smiled, then stepped around behind him. He lifted the hair off an equally perfect shoulder, pulling it aside to expose more of his throat. But instead of kissing or biting, he brushed his other hand over Yazoo's leather-clad cock before beginning the slow work of one-handedly removing the leathers. "I know I can. You want it." His voice came quiet, soft, a seductive whisper in full confidence. "Knowing that you could stop me, but that you aren't, turns you on. Your awareness that you like me taking control is what makes you so hard for me."
Yazoo wasn't moving any longer, simply held in Bruce's thrall. His head fell back to rest against Bruce's shoulder. This felt far too good to fight him right now. It was true, what Bruce said and he was so hard his leather was confining him. His hips thrust forward into Bruce's hand as if to get him to hurry, his own impatience starting to take over.
Bruce let Yazoo lean against him, knowing the weight of desire and anticipation, and knowing too the need for grounding as it grew. It aroused him, also, to have Yazoo's hands pinned between their bodies, unable to reach Bruce's cock growing harder with Yazoo's every rasped breath. Following the line up to Yazoo's throat, he laid a trail of gently stinging bites along the pale shoulder beneath his mouth, while his other hand stroked down his lover's body to join the first and aid it in removing leather from rocking hips.
"Bruce," Yazoo growled low in warning. The teasing was eating him alive, along with Bruce's mouth and he ached, from head to foot. His hands clenched reflexively in fists, wanting to touch Bruce, wanting to hurry him along. A game, yes but now Yazoo wanted more, he was impatient for more and demanded it in the poise of his body and in the tone of his voice.
Bruce grinned, briefly, against Yazoo's shoulder, before growling softly: "Master Bruce."
Pushing the leather clear of Yazoo's hips, he squatted to remove them, encouraging Yazoo to use him for balance as he stepped out of the leather, boots already having been removed. And as he slowly stood again, his lips and tongue whispered over Yazoo's thighs, dwelling on his ass, pausing to suck at a tensed thumb, then up his back to his shoulder again. His hands danced over his legs and groin, teasing around his cock, and up his chest. But before Yazoo could protest again, one hand loosely circled the stiff cock now freed to the open air.
Wet on his thumb then warmth around his cock as the rest of his exposed body cooled in the air. Yazoo thrust again, his hips flexing and tightening, into the channel formed by Bruce's hand. He squeezed his eyes shut and his teeth clenched tight.
A few short strokes, and then, conveniently, Bruce's cell chimed. No one important enough to answer the phone for any other time, but it suited him to make Yazoo wait longer. And it would suit Yazoo, too, when he came shuddering and sobbing for him. As he withdrew the phone from his pocket, he nudged Yazoo toward the bed. "Face down, lover. I won't be long, and you'll be warmer."
Then he flipped open the phone. "Wei, Bruce." His business associate in China began to speak in rapid-fire Mandarin, and Bruce listened attentively but his gaze never left Yazoo.
"Fuck," Yazoo ground out and his eyes opened. He didn't want Bruce to answer the phone and when he heard the chirp and the soft greeting, Yazoo frowned. He craned his neck to look at Bruce in frustration, his breath hissing softly through his teeth.
With the nudge, Yazoo lurched toward the bed. Half way across the room, he stopped and turned to regard Bruce with an impassive look that melted away into an amused expression. Turning away again, Yazoo stood there, looking straight ahead.
"Excuse me a moment," Bruce said into the phone. Covering it, he arched an eyebrow at Yazoo, humor and wicked intent warming his eyes. He went to Yazoo to offer him a hand in complying, and a little encouragement in the form of a swift kiss.
Meeting Bruce's gaze again, he endured the kiss with detatchment. But he did move to the bed and slowly climbed onto the mattress to situate in the the middle. With a tip, Yazoo collapsed onto the bed, face down as Bruce instructed and he wiggled for a moment to get comforable, making sure he wasn't laying on anything that would dig, poke or twist later.
The last had his head, as he flipped his hair out of his face, resting easily on a pillow. His gaze was dark, eyes glittering as he watched Bruce take his phone call.
Bruce sat at the edge of the bed while he took the call, pretending to be unmoved by the sight of his beautiful Yazoo bound for him. His cock, which twitched and throbbed against his belly but held snug by his boxer-briefs, gave the lie to it.
He focused his attention on the call, because will was everything and if he'd taken the call he had a responsibility to it. Fortunately, the man wanted simply to report. So Bruce listened, let his mind absorb the information, and when Abel Chen had finished, he said 'thank you' and hung up the phone.
Two desires warred in him. One to strip off his slacks and take Yazoo right now. The other to ride this as far as he could take it, push Yazoo as far to the edge as he could go. In the end, the remembered sound of Yazoo's pleasure and the thought of him in his arms, after, completely vulnerable and open, helped Bruce stay the course.
Rising, he went to his nightstand, retrieved the lube and the book he'd been reading Yazoo before bed the previous night. Bruce sat again, laying both items in clear view - only long enough to give Yazoo a chance to recognize both before he put the lube to proper use to slick the fingers of one hand. Then he lifted the book in his other hand and began to read.
Yazoo thought many uncharitable things about Bruce and his hips lifted in response. He ground his teeth together and closed his eyes again to wait for the familiar cool of lube to tease at him and make him ready for Bruce. All the while Bruce read to him as if there were nothing else for them to do that day.
Well there was. Fucking him was on the top of Yazoo's list at the moment and his breath hissed softly while he waited for it.
He could almost hear Yazoo cursing him from the hiss of indrawn breath and the tension in his forearms and fists. It only made him harder to know how much Yazoo wanted to be fucked, and more determined to draw this out.
Still, without some escalation, Yazoo would only become frustrated, not more aroused. So, moving into a position where he could reach with ease, Bruce continued to read. But while he read he slid his fingers up the crack of Yazoo's ass. Slowly, idly, as though he had no intentions other than to pet him. Then as he turned a page he slid the tip of his thumb into Yazoo.
No matter how much his hips rose to encourage...demand...Bruce do something, the man took his infuriating time and Yazoo snarled softly. A soft caress over his hip and ass, sliding along the cleft, he lifted again, and Bruce seemed to dance away again, touching only enough to drive him crazy.
He fell still for a moment, however, when Bruce's finger entered him and he grunted softly in response, the fingers on his hand clenching and unclenching rhythmically.
For a while longer, Bruce read, occasionally pressing deeper into Yazoo or withdrawing. No particular pattern to his choices, and the only intention to keep Yazoo from relaxing into a comfort zone. The lack of knowledge of what would come and when worked to Bruce's advantage, making seconds into minutes and minutes into hours.
After perhaps ten minutes, he pressed his thumb deep into Yazoo's ass, and gave him just enough time to adjust before thrusting three times in quick succession before withdrawing it completely. Forcing his breathing even, as though the feel of Yazoo tight around him affected him not at all, Bruce reached over with his clean hand and straightened a snarl of hair.
"It's a shame it's all tangled." It wasn't. "It needs brushing so it'll wrap around my hand easier." He rose and padded to the bathroom, leaving Yazoo to think of all the things he might do with the brush that had nothing to do with hair. Bruce wouldn't, because in his mind this game had to do with what he could do to Yazoo; his hands, his mouth, his voice, his brain, his cock - but Yazoo didn't know that, and his thoughts ought to lead him to whatever aroused him the most.
Bruce's finger in his ass kept Yazoo's attention. He lifted his hips in a physical demand for more but Bruce obviously wasn't going to be pressured. Then the bed dipped and the warmth from Bruce's body left him as he went to the bathroom to get the brush.
Craning his head to watch Bruce, he couldn't see the other man unless he twisted on the bed and it put his body in an uncomfortable position. He stretched back out again and closed his eyes, all the things that Bruce could do with the brush flowing through his mind and making his body throb harder.
Retrieving the hairbush, Bruce paused in the doorway to revel in the strength and power and beauty arrayed on his bed. By choice. For him. Which moved him more, affection, desire, or power, he couldn't have said, but the entire package made him so hard and hungry, he almost set aside the game.
Almost.
Instead, he strolled as nonchalantly as he could manage to Yazoo's side, brush in hand, and stopped where Yazoo would have to crane his head uncomfortably to see him but could if he chose. Then stripped off his slacks and his boxer-briefs and tossing them on the bed beside Yazoo. With an audible groan, he wrapped his hand around his dick and began to stroke.
"You make me so hard, Yazoo. I should I let you blow me. Make you kneel for me, with your hands tied behind your back, cock leaking and you knowing you're not getting fucked until I'm ready again."
The way Bruce sounded, Yazoo almost came undone. God, when Bruce talked like that, it just turned him on. "Shit," he said through his teeth.
Fighting against his wrist restraints, Yazoo wiggled around, trying to get Bruce back into his field of vision. Bruce was teasing him and it was driving him crazy. He bucked on the bed and shifted, which only made his cock rub against the blanket and sent him higher. "Bruce." The name came out as a growl and a warning.
"Fuck, that's pretty." And, god, it was. Yazoo struggling - mostly against himself - ass begging for the plowing it would definitely get soon, because fuck if he could wait much longer.
Gritting his teeth, Bruce released his hold on his cock, then settled on the bed beside Yazoo. He set his hips even with Yazoo's shoulder and angled toward him, so Yazoo could see what this did to him, would have to see, unless he turned away - an admission of need that would have Bruce touching and soothing and taking him in a heartbeat.
At the moment, his lover teetered close to that edge but not at it. So Bruce leaned over him, gathered up his hair. And brushed it - with slow, steady, deliberate strokes that trailed the length of Yazoo's back and stopped just above his ass.
Yazoo stopped moving when Bruce touched him and he relaxed against the mattress. Letting his eyes drift shut, he felt the brush pulling over his hair, through the strands in soothing motions. This dynamic wasn't necessarily different between them but the situation was new. Yazoo wasn't quite sure what was going to happen but for the moment it was in a place he could handle it. Except for the impatiently waiting to feel Bruce plowing his ass. That was pretty much a given.
Opening his eyes, Yazoo's gaze held defiance in them and he looked up at Bruce. "Want to dress me up like a doll? Set me against the pillow to look pretty for you?"
Bruce gave Yazoo a look like he might be considering it. "And then would I call you 'Kiki'? No. Once was enough, lover. But I wouldn't mind tying you to the headboard."
A sly smile curved his lips as he set the brush down and took hold of Yazoo's wrists. How far could he push this? "Roll over, Yazoo. And put your arms over your head." He tugged out the loose knot and waited to see if Yazoo would comply.
"Would you want to fuck her?" Yazoo asked as the bindings around his wrist loosened. His arms fell to the side and it took a moment for him to gain his muscle control back and he lifted up onto his elbows, giving Bruce a challenging look, as if to ask, 'what will you do if I don't?'
However, Yazoo didn't push things. He was still willing to see where this went and if Bruce really wanted to explore these things. It was a new side to his lover and it intrigued him to see where Bruce would go next.
Rolling over onto his back, he stretched out on the mattress, his toes brushing the footboard. He reached high overhead and placed his hands, one nested on the palm of the other and he waited.
"Why would I want to fuck her when I can have you?" Seeing Yazoo stretched out, exposed and trusting, or at least willing to play along for now, he amended, "when I will have you." Then looped his dress shirt around obediently offered wrists, tied it snug, and half-knotted the sleeves to the slats. Yazoo could easily pull free if he chose, but the binding was tight enough to feel secure and somewhat restraining.
As before, Bruce raked his gaze down Yazoo's body, but this time followed with his fingertips. Soft, teasing strokes over his chest and stomach, and down his thighs. Back up his cock, a slightly firmer stroke, but still tender, almost reverent. And all the while, he held their gazes locked, dark, heated desire showing in his eyes.
Yazoo tested the knots and how tightly he was held in place, craning his neck to inspect them. Smiling, he settled on the bed and met Bruce's gaze with the same intensity he could feel sparking between them, channeling back to his lover. The soft strokes, the trails of fingertips caused his breath to catch in his throat and he arched, wanting to feel more.
There would be words if Bruce teased him for too long. But at the moment, Yazoo reveled in being at the center of Bruce's world, of his focus.
Placing his hands on either side of Yazoo's chest, Bruce leaned down and took his mouth, giving his own need for Yazoo free rein in the kiss. Fierce, hungry, passionate - fucking that beautiful, sensual mouth that occupied so much of his mental space.
And while he said 'want you, need you' with his lips and teeth and tongue, Bruce straddled Yazoo's thighs. Keeping his weight on his hands and knees, he brushed the head of his aching cock along Yazoo's, teasing himself as much as his lover. But it was Yazoo's pleasure he sought. His own would wait.
With another impatient inhale, Yazoo lifted his hips. The touch along his dick, Bruce's tapping at him so gently yet so evident was maddening. He lifted his head and crushed back against the kiss, taking ruthlessly what was given to him and he ate it up, not wanting to spill one drop from the talented mouth.
A mouth he wanted to feel going down on him. Or slick across his stomach and chest. Just some place, touching along his body because he ached for Bruce's attention. Tearing his mouth away, he looked up at Bruce, his breathing heavy and his eyes dark and wide. "Fuck me, Bruce."
"Not yet." Not even 'soon', because the waiting and the not knowing would bring Yazoo that much closer to the edge Bruce wanted him on. This game had moved from playful to powerful with that one kiss, and Bruce could and would exploit that to make Yazoo come apart for him.
Where his fingers had brushed, his lips and tongue went in earnest. Dragging over Yazoo's throat, and sucking it into his mouth. Over his chest, in long flat strokes across hardening nipples then rough teasing with his teeth. Down and down, his dick leaking on Yazoo's thighs as he trailed open-mouthed kisses over the hard planes of his lover's abdomen.
Bruce paused, hands splayed beside Yazoo's hips, lips hovering just out of reach, then collected Yazoo's gaze before parting his lips and letting his breath spill, warm and damp, along his cock.
Not yet? Yazoo thought his mind would unravel from the half touches he was feeling over his body. The breath on his dick was teasing and he lifted from the bed, just wanting to feel even Bruce's mouth brush his flesh.
If a year ago, he had been told he'd be doing this, allowing a man to restrain him even if he could easily get out of it if he so chose, Yazoo would have laughed at them. No man restrained him. No man would hold him back.
And yet, that wasn't what Bruce was doing. It was a game. Perhaps even part of The Game. And it was exciting and enticing and it had Yazoo so turned on he was almost blind from his desire.
Pleasing Yazoo, making him come, always turned Bruce on. But this, the incredible power of having Yazoo aching, begging with his body for Bruce's touch, it was like nothing else. He could've come just from the drag of his dick against the bedspread as he moved with Yazoo, keep his mouth just out of reach. But he fought down his needs, and focused on Yazoo.
It'd been two years at least since he'd had cock in his mouth, and always it'd been about someone proving their power over him. This time, it would be about pleasure. Yazoo's. And Bruce's power to give it to him.
One long, slow swipe of his tongue from root to crown, then he withdrew again, blowing cool air over the wet streak he'd left.
Soft curses spilled from Yazoo's lips, his hips lifting again, needing to be closer to Bruce's mouth, wanting to be in his mouth. Fuck, he wanted Bruce so much.
He watched down the length of his body, the dark head moving over his hips, over his cock and Yazoo moaned aloud. Clenching his teeth, his stomach muscles flexed and he lifted his legs to wrap around Bruce's back in a tight grip.
Even in this awkward position, Yazoo could keep him here. Pitted strength to strength, Bruce wasn't a match for him. On the other hand, no one said he had to play fair. Unless he would pull his hands free, Yazoo couldn't control Bruce's head. And yet again, he'd expressed an unmistakable desire by wrapping his legs around him.
Even within the scope of a game he hadn't yet won, Bruce could encourage that - sharing of needs and desires so he wouldn't have to guess how to take care of Yazoo. This time he added gentle suction to the long stroke, drawing Yazoo into his mouth and closing his lips around him. Only long enough to drag his mouth the length of his shaft and pull free.
"Ask for what you need." Coaxing, not yet a command, but Bruce's voice filled with intimate power and the dark throb of his own needs barely held at bay.
He loved it when Bruce talked like that. When he sounded like that. Like dark chocolate, thick and melted and warm. It excited him and turned him on. And when Bruce's mouth slid down his cock he moaned so wantonly Yazoo had to wonder if it was his voice at all.
"Suck me, Bruce," Yazoo said. His voice was hoarse and low, filled with his own dark desire and need for the man he had trapped between his legs. He would take Bruce anyway he could get him, just as long as he stayed at the center of the man's universe, Yazoo would do whatever he wanted.
With a knowing smile, Bruce fished the lube from under his hip and slicked his hand again. Ignoring the awkward angle, he reached between them and took Yazoo's ass again with first one, then two fingers. Swift, but not rough in any way that might harm Yazoo.
"That's right, lover. Tell me what you need." Still encouraging, rather than demanding, but the tight heat around his fingers made it harder and harder to play. He wanted his tongue in Yazoo's mouth, his dick in his ass. Wanted to fuck him hard and deep until he came apart.
But for the moment, he worked his tongue over Yazoo's cock, lingering behind the head, and lifting him into his mouth. Short gliding suction, never taking him deep, even as he worked his fingers into him - giving Yazoo some of what he needed, but not all. Not quite yet.
It was getting harder with every slide over his dick to keep it wound tight. Bruce's mouth felt so blessedly warm and soft and he needed to fill it, to come, to find release and stop the sweet torment that shivered through his hips and threatened to rob him of his sanity.
"Bruce," he said softly. He was already panting, arms pulled tight against the shirt that held him. "Bruce," he repeated again.
With that soft request, the game shifted. Power blurred. Yazoo craved release, and for his body, any release would do. But his mouth, his mind, had asked for him.
He answered with his fingers first, thrusting deep to command Yazoo’s attention and say ‘I’m here,’ and then began to build his climax. Slow, hard, with fingers curving in and out, gaining speed with each stroke.
Adding sensation on sensation, his lips dusted the length of Yazoo’s shaft, sweet-soft in invitation. “Come for me, lover. I want it.” Then opened over his head and drew him in, letting his teeth scrape gently and his tongue flick through the slit - a last bit of torment before taking Yazoo in earnest. His throat softened, opened to Yazoo, even as he fucked him deep with his fingers.
Nothing playful in how Bruce worked him, everything focused laser-sharp. Lips, teeth, tongue, hand - all extensions of his brain, telling Yazoo that he would be what Yazoo needed.
Yazoo's legs fell away, landing heavily on the bed as he thrust up into Bruce's mouth. Fingers fucking him, Bruce's hot mouth sliding down over him, Yazoo thought his body would split. He wanted to feel Bruce's dick in his ass but damned if that talented mouth and those fingers weren't doing a fine job of getting him off.
He jerked, his hands snapping against the shirt restraint and he pulled to try to free himself. But his attention was divided, the attempts to get free were half hearted and soon robbed completely as he felt his orgasm organizing so quickly he had no time to think, to speak, to warn Bruce. It was there and no stopping it as his body arched from the bed.
He shouted, Bruce's name echoed through the room in rapid succession and he came so hard he thought he'd pass out from the intensity. Hanging in the air, his body shuddered as he released into Bruce's mouth and falling to the mattress when he was finally spent, his chest heaving from catching his breath.
Hearing Yazoo's breathless cries, his name repeated over and over, god, it was powerful, heady. It made him hungry for Yazoo's climax, demanding it with his fingers, inviting it with his mouth. And when he did come, Bruce drew it out, coaxing him to let it all go - not just the hot, thick fluid that slipped over his tongue and down his throat, but the tension in his body, the pent-up need. He followed Yazoo up to the edge, over, and down, slowing with him and milking the last of his pleasure before withdrawing.
Another time he might've lingered over the move back up Yazoo's body, rubbing his own aching cock along hard muscles or thrusting between his thighs. But his lover had been bound too long and that was a first priority. No sooner had he swallowed Yazoo's release, than Bruce was over him, untying him and covering him with his body for grounding and warmth.
Limply, Yazoo was able to get his arms moving again, draping them heavily over Bruce's shoulders in an attempt at an embrace. A clumsy attempt at any rate. Sweat was sticky over his skin and starting to cool, his heart still hammering in his chest. His fingers combed through the back of Bruce's dark, damp hair. "Fuck," he whispered softly.
The press of Bruce's cock against him was in sharp relief to the languid and liquid feeling coursing through his body. "Bruce." Yazoo's mouth was close to his ear to breathe across it gently. "Take what you want," he said.
Yazoo lay sated and open in his arms, the rightness of it surrounding them both. "I have what I want." It wasn't a protest or a denial, simply a statement of fact before taking his mouth, slow and sweet - to convey without words the powerful pleasure he found in bringing his lover to this place.
He lifted himself off Yazoo long enough to slick his cock, then gentle but insistent, pressed home. Despite the throbbing ache and the tight heat of Yazoo around him, Bruce was in no hurry. Being in Yazoo, while seeing the soft glow in his eyes made this taking less about getting off and more about intimacy and sharing. Slow thrusts, almost lazy except for the completeness of the strokes, each one burying him deeper and deeper, as though somehow he could touch Yazoo's heart if he just went deep enough.
Their bodies rocked together, each thrust driving deeper into Yazoo and taking him higher. Sex before had never been this sweet. Bruce took his time and the sensations were allowed to linger, like a light fragrance. It wasn't hurried or frantic.
Which sometimes was nice, when the driving need to feel the sex and the sweat and their bodies collide was all.
But now, the way Bruce took him, solid and strong, with purpose and meaning...Yazoo closed his eyes and allowed himself to be...loved.