First square!
Title: Rehearsal
Summary: "Just think about it," Brandon says.
Fandom: Rope (1948)
Word Count: 500
Rating/Contents: NC-17, vague D/s, breathplay (and boy do I ever mean it), fucked up situations
Pairing: Brandon Shaw/Phillip Morgan
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the breathplay square on my
kink_bingo card. Set pre-canon, so if you know the premise of the movie, you're probably good. Strangely enough, this is not one of the stories I had hidden away; some stories just leap fully formed out of your head.
"Just think about it," Brandon says, his teeth worrying at Phillip's earlobe, his hand pressed against the front of his tight slacks. "Think about what we're about to do."
"I can't stop thinking about it," Phillip protests, gasping as Brandon presses his hand down harder, rubbing him through his clothing.
Brandon hums in approval. "Good," he says, kissing the side of Phillip's neck gently. He takes his hand away from Phillip's wrists, but Phillip knows better than to move, keeping himself exactly how Brandon wants him. "We're going to be brilliant," he promises, sliding his hand into Phillip's waistband, reaching down to stroke him in short little jerks that aren't enough, not by half, which is probably just what Brandon wants. He likes to keep Phillip off-balance, fully reliant on him, following along like a dog on a leash.
He throws a leg over Phillip's hips, straddling him. "I'm going to sit just like this," he says, as he grinds down, drawing a whimper from Phillip. "I'm going to put my hands here," he says, laying one strong, well-manicured hand on the side of Phillip's neck, "and here," he repeats, placing the other across from it.
Phillip's breath is already coming in gasps, taken away by all the kissing and touching; but as Brandon's hands slowly encircle him, pressing in just a little to start, even gasping becomes hard to do. Brandon's grinning at him, pleased as Phillip's ever seen him; Phillip can feel every single one of his fingers as they press into his throat.
"Or maybe I won't," Brandon says, his hands tightening a little more. "Maybe I'll use a rope instead." His hands go tighter still.
Phillip really can't catch his breath now; his vision is starting to go strange and dark around the edges, a little blurred and fuzzy, and there's the oddest ringing in his ears. He doesn't move, though, can't, really, and it wouldn't help if he did. Brandon will do what Brandon wants to do; Phillip's only ever been along for the ride.
"Maybe I'll save this," Brandon says, bending down to kiss Phillip on the forehead, "just for you."
He realizes, distantly, that his hips are still working without him, rubbing mindlessly against Brandon. He's still hard, his pants uncomfortably tight against him, and all he wants is some release, to get somewhere, feel something that he can't quite grasp.
Maybe Brandon just won't stop squeezing; maybe that would be its own kind of relief, get rid of this tension inside of him once and for all.
Brandon lets go, all of a sudden; Phillip throws his head back as he gasps for air, and it's perfect, it's just what he's been looking for. He thrusts his hips up and comes, right inside his clothing, shuddering all the way through it, like he's going to break into a thousand pieces.
"See?" Brandon says, triumphant, satisfied, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "Brilliant," he says.
Phillip can't say anything.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/233809.html.
comments over there.
Summary: "Just think about it," Brandon says.
Fandom: Rope (1948)
Word Count: 500
Rating/Contents: NC-17, vague D/s, breathplay (and boy do I ever mean it), fucked up situations
Pairing: Brandon Shaw/Phillip Morgan
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: For the breathplay square on my
kink_bingo card. Set pre-canon, so if you know the premise of the movie, you're probably good. Strangely enough, this is not one of the stories I had hidden away; some stories just leap fully formed out of your head.
"Just think about it," Brandon says, his teeth worrying at Phillip's earlobe, his hand pressed against the front of his tight slacks. "Think about what we're about to do."
"I can't stop thinking about it," Phillip protests, gasping as Brandon presses his hand down harder, rubbing him through his clothing.
Brandon hums in approval. "Good," he says, kissing the side of Phillip's neck gently. He takes his hand away from Phillip's wrists, but Phillip knows better than to move, keeping himself exactly how Brandon wants him. "We're going to be brilliant," he promises, sliding his hand into Phillip's waistband, reaching down to stroke him in short little jerks that aren't enough, not by half, which is probably just what Brandon wants. He likes to keep Phillip off-balance, fully reliant on him, following along like a dog on a leash.
He throws a leg over Phillip's hips, straddling him. "I'm going to sit just like this," he says, as he grinds down, drawing a whimper from Phillip. "I'm going to put my hands here," he says, laying one strong, well-manicured hand on the side of Phillip's neck, "and here," he repeats, placing the other across from it.
Phillip's breath is already coming in gasps, taken away by all the kissing and touching; but as Brandon's hands slowly encircle him, pressing in just a little to start, even gasping becomes hard to do. Brandon's grinning at him, pleased as Phillip's ever seen him; Phillip can feel every single one of his fingers as they press into his throat.
"Or maybe I won't," Brandon says, his hands tightening a little more. "Maybe I'll use a rope instead." His hands go tighter still.
Phillip really can't catch his breath now; his vision is starting to go strange and dark around the edges, a little blurred and fuzzy, and there's the oddest ringing in his ears. He doesn't move, though, can't, really, and it wouldn't help if he did. Brandon will do what Brandon wants to do; Phillip's only ever been along for the ride.
"Maybe I'll save this," Brandon says, bending down to kiss Phillip on the forehead, "just for you."
He realizes, distantly, that his hips are still working without him, rubbing mindlessly against Brandon. He's still hard, his pants uncomfortably tight against him, and all he wants is some release, to get somewhere, feel something that he can't quite grasp.
Maybe Brandon just won't stop squeezing; maybe that would be its own kind of relief, get rid of this tension inside of him once and for all.
Brandon lets go, all of a sudden; Phillip throws his head back as he gasps for air, and it's perfect, it's just what he's been looking for. He thrusts his hips up and comes, right inside his clothing, shuddering all the way through it, like he's going to break into a thousand pieces.
"See?" Brandon says, triumphant, satisfied, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "Brilliant," he says.
Phillip can't say anything.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/233809.html.
comments over there.