Prompt #54 - Self-Love
The lips that pressed against his own tasted unbearably sweet.
Yami's eyes fluttered closed, his arms wrapping themselves around the body above him as his mouth was assaulted. Goosebumps prickled along his skin. He was already panting for breath.
"Take off your clothes," he was told.
The voice was sharp, and Yami obeyed the command without a word to the contrary. Trousers went first. Yami hastily tugged them down to his knees, kicked them off and everything under them too.
"Mm. I missed you, Yami." Hands trailed down to his thighs as Yami struggled to remove his shirt, fingers pinching skin on his inner thigh. Then, "Hurry up." The voice was a hiss, impatient.
The shirt was tossed aside mere seconds later. "There," Yami breathed.
"You were much too slow."
A gasp echoed between them as hands roughly handled Yami's cock. Constricting fingers wound tightly around it, suffocating it; there was no hesitation in their movements. His body throbbed against the painful pressure, and he whimpered as each sharp shot of pain coursed through him. Everything had happened too quickly; there had been no time to brace.
"Ah... aah..." his breaths were caught between loose cries.
"You're sick, Yami, enjoying being treated like this..."
The pressure lifted and Yami tried to settle his breathing. He said nothing in response.
"I'll just have to find a way to punish you, you. Or maybe... you'd just like more?" The pause afterward was teasing, and not long enough to allow an answer. "If you're good, I might be nice to you. Tell me you want it."
Another command. Yami couldn't remember Mokuba ever being so pushy. His body tingled in anticipation for what could follow. Even so he hesitated, not because he didn't want more - he always wanted more. Some force within, coiling around his throat, rendered him mute and pushed him to test the limits of his captor.
He wished a pair of hands were closed around it instead.
"Tell me."
The defiance persisted.
Weight pressed itself down on Yami's body almost immediately. "What did I just say?" The anger held within the voice made Yami shiver. It wasn't angry enough, though, so he remained quiet.
The slap that followed his protest caused his ears to ring. "I said, tell me."
The sting of his cheek loosened his tongue. "I want it," he whined. Afterward, he would vehemently deny such soft words.
It was the only way he would receive the abuse he deserved. There had only been one person willing to oblige him, to punish him for all of his wrongdoings - to give him the ecstasy he craved. The memory of hands tearing, of rope biting, aroused him further. It was the only time he had been completely sated. He couldn't have been happier.
The person who had given him that feeling - now he was...
"Yuugi..." he sighed.
The name rolled off of his tongue. Though nearly a whisper, the sound had been so intense that Yami surprised even himself. The word was said at a nearly vaporous volume, fluttering into the air; uttered in a tone of ecstasy that he had never heard from himself before. He had never put so much passion into a moan, never made a noise like that - the thought of having said the wrong name barely crossed his mind.
It went ignored. There was suddenly a needy, solid press between his legs.
"Aah..." His pants were lusty and low, hips itching forward to tease the cock pushing between them. He wanted it - oh, he couldn't wait. "Haa... haa..."
He wouldn't have to. Hands gripped Yami's hips tightly, pulling him forward. The first thrust was hard, dry, and another followed without warning. The friction between them burned and Yami rolled his head back, shutting his eyes in pain. He felt as though he was being ripped open; there was no reprieve, muscles struggling to adjust to the mass that was violating him. Instinctively, his hips jutted back and away, but those hands held him firmly in place. It was excruciating. Was this punishment for the mistake he'd made? He had earned it.
"Take it." The hiss was feral, through gritted teeth.
Yami's body stole another intake of breath. His legs and thighs moved up, up, resting on small shoulders. Eyes screwed shut on his face, hips rolled hard to meet the new angle. Each stroke was deeper than the last as a hard cock pushed its way further inside. The pain was euphoric. Yami couldn't stop his legs from trembling. At this rate, he was going to come.
There was an aggressive snarl above him, and then a haughty chuckle. The thrusts didn't stop. "You're pathetic. Say it."
His body was adjusting to the mass inside it much more quickly than he wanted. Each stroke became less painful and more slick, the friction melting away. The cock was almost there, though, almost pressing to the back wall and when he reached it, Yami wouldn't be able to hold back at all.
The erection was pulled out of him unceremoniously, and Yami moaned at its absence. "Please..." he begged.
"Say it."
There was no reprimand for his disobedience, however, and without motivation to go on Yami would try his best to last a bit longer.
"I will stand here," he was told. "I don't have to fuck you at all. I'll blow all over your face and you'll get nothing. You're not going to push me around."
Nails dug into his thighs, dragging the skin underneath; and Yami took a deep breath to try to hold himself under control. The nails weren't pressing deep enough, weren't drawing blood and Yami was sure that he could resist the alluring sting. He could hold out for something more.
The hands trailed below, cupping around his buttocks, pulling him forward and lifting his hips higher.
"N-no," Yami whimpered weakly in protest, knowing that he wouldn't survive that. It would be too deep.
Without warning, rough hands squeezed Yami's balls and tugged downward. He hissed loudly as he tried to disguise his reaction, and cried out when the wave of agony proved too much for him. His own erection shuddered, and tears bundled at the corners of his eyes as he realized he was so hard he was beginning to hurt. It was torture.
But he still wanted more, wanted to be in tears, wanted nails to cut and teeth to bite through skin. Yami wanted to burn; it had been a lifetime since he'd felt hot wax searing his flesh. He wanted to see his own blood. Just the thought of it made him moan again, cock twitching more violently. His eyes screwed shut. He was going to -
One of the hands moved swiftly to the base of his shaft, squeezing even tighter than before. "You're not coming before me, you piece of shit."
Yami's hips were heaving - he could feel the orgasm traveling from the tips of his toes towards his torso. He knew how much it would hurt when it reached his loins, when the spasms were supposed to release but wouldn't; he writhed on the sheets, suffered alone in a dry orgasm. In desperate throes, Yami rasped, "P-pathe...tic! I'm..." between ragged breaths. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
The hand removed itself when Yami's body finished seizing.
A small breeze wafted over his face, and small puffs of breath brushed his right ear where a mouth was leaning close. "You're filthy. Did you know that?" There was a pause. "Are you ready to come properly? You've been so good for me. Been a while since I've had you like this. I miss it."
The breath on Yami's lobe made his entire body convulse.
"Hm? Are you ready?" The voice was suddenly playful, as though they were having fun.
Yami nodded, eyes still shut. He felt something hard press against his entrance and couldn't help arching his back.
"Beg for it." Hands that weren't his wiped away his tears in gentle motions. The touch was merciful, soft. Persuasive. "Go on."
Yami's erection was swollen from abuse - there was nothing more he wanted than release. His balls and the sheets beneath him were drenched in precum and colorless ejaculate. If he went any longer without it he would pass out. He would come as soon as he was entered, he knew.
"Master..." He couldn't help sobbing. "I... I need - "
"I know what you need." But the member pressing against him continued anyway, tip forcing past the tight ring of muscles. Yami's knees were pressed back against his torso and he held his breath as though that would somehow make him stronger.
He wasn't going to make it.
"I ca-can't," he whined, trying to convey his thoughts, but he sounded too pitiful. He wouldn't have listened to himself. "I'm going to..."
Lips covered his own in a soft kiss. Yami's eyes were still closed, but he responded to kiss weakly. His breaths were too quickly paced to sustain any embrace for a long time; the pain of his hard-on was constant, and it wouldn't wane until he came again - really came. Enfolding his body against his lover he tried to hold himself back, to wait until the Master gave his permission. He would try as hard as he could.
Those skilled hands trailed up his chest, fingertips brushing the sides of Yami's neck, and it made him shiver. Every second was a battle against sensations that threatened to conquer him. Palms rested against the hot skin of his throat, fingers spreading out to the sides, curling to cradle his chin.
"...oh..." Yami gasped as the pressure increased. "...no..." He realized what was happening, and his body did, too.
"Oh, yes," the voice said above him.
Yami opened his eyes just in time to see a sinister smile. Fingers tightened around his throat, nails piercing downward into his skin.
His cock throbbed before it erupted, heart pounding -
...
Red eyes snapped open as his body shuddered.
"Oh, shit." Yami didn't need to check underneath the sheets to know what was there. "Shit." He paused, and realized he was hyperventilating. Breaths were deep and fast, as though he'd run a mile. "Fuck."
First instinct was to flee the bed and check for damage. Goddamn it, he hadn't been expecting to wash sheets today. When he tried to move, however, his body protested vehemently. He'd just come, but he was still hard and both of those things were taxing.
"Fuck!" He didn't particularly care if he was being loud. Yami glanced around, mind reeling at the miniscule chance that perhaps Mokuba had come home really late from work that night. How would he explain this?
The bed was empty.
Imprinted in his mind were some details of the wet dream, but they were slipping away quickly, as dreams were wont to do. Yami took a few moments to relive it before they were gone. He'd blown a particularly heavy load; it was dripping down past his balls and he knew the sheets would be stained, too. If he was going to have to wash anyway, and Mokuba wasn't there - why rush?
"Fuck," he said again, resigned to the situation.
He frowned. Mokuba was nearly never home, so the cleanup would be easy. Yami knew where everything was in the flat; he might be late for work at the shop, but if he called ahead Gramps wouldn't get too angry.
He felt disgusted. Yami hadn't had a dream like that for a while, near a year at least. It wasn't a good sign. Running fingers over his face to make sure there weren't any tear streaks - a vivid detail he hadn't been able to shake - he sighed deeply. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but crying certainly wasn't an option.
"I'm pathetic," he whispered, but he really meant it.
That dream hadn't been about Mokuba.
---------------------------------------------------
I'm not sure what else to say about this other than - "Yep, this is what Yami really wants." I had a difficult time getting through this, honestly. I lost this post the first time I had conjured it up, and it took a long time to get over my devastation to add more to it again. I only have a few more prompts left now, so I'm hoping that I'll be able to finish this table up soon. It's been over a year since I've started, and I have to admit that doing more than two-thirds of a prompt table is still formidable - but I want to finish it.
I'm also going to start tagging these soon, I suppose.
Not sure how many people actually read my journal, or these when I post them, but if anyone around here catches this I wanted to pose a question: Should I put this up on AFF (adultfanfiction)? I've been thinking about it. I guess I should, because Be Cool if up there, but there are a lot of plot chapters and most of them aren't necessarily porn (unlike this one).
Anyway, I do hope that you enjoyed it. See you around!
Yami's eyes fluttered closed, his arms wrapping themselves around the body above him as his mouth was assaulted. Goosebumps prickled along his skin. He was already panting for breath.
"Take off your clothes," he was told.
The voice was sharp, and Yami obeyed the command without a word to the contrary. Trousers went first. Yami hastily tugged them down to his knees, kicked them off and everything under them too.
"Mm. I missed you, Yami." Hands trailed down to his thighs as Yami struggled to remove his shirt, fingers pinching skin on his inner thigh. Then, "Hurry up." The voice was a hiss, impatient.
The shirt was tossed aside mere seconds later. "There," Yami breathed.
"You were much too slow."
A gasp echoed between them as hands roughly handled Yami's cock. Constricting fingers wound tightly around it, suffocating it; there was no hesitation in their movements. His body throbbed against the painful pressure, and he whimpered as each sharp shot of pain coursed through him. Everything had happened too quickly; there had been no time to brace.
"Ah... aah..." his breaths were caught between loose cries.
"You're sick, Yami, enjoying being treated like this..."
The pressure lifted and Yami tried to settle his breathing. He said nothing in response.
"I'll just have to find a way to punish you, you. Or maybe... you'd just like more?" The pause afterward was teasing, and not long enough to allow an answer. "If you're good, I might be nice to you. Tell me you want it."
Another command. Yami couldn't remember Mokuba ever being so pushy. His body tingled in anticipation for what could follow. Even so he hesitated, not because he didn't want more - he always wanted more. Some force within, coiling around his throat, rendered him mute and pushed him to test the limits of his captor.
He wished a pair of hands were closed around it instead.
"Tell me."
The defiance persisted.
Weight pressed itself down on Yami's body almost immediately. "What did I just say?" The anger held within the voice made Yami shiver. It wasn't angry enough, though, so he remained quiet.
The slap that followed his protest caused his ears to ring. "I said, tell me."
The sting of his cheek loosened his tongue. "I want it," he whined. Afterward, he would vehemently deny such soft words.
It was the only way he would receive the abuse he deserved. There had only been one person willing to oblige him, to punish him for all of his wrongdoings - to give him the ecstasy he craved. The memory of hands tearing, of rope biting, aroused him further. It was the only time he had been completely sated. He couldn't have been happier.
The person who had given him that feeling - now he was...
"Yuugi..." he sighed.
The name rolled off of his tongue. Though nearly a whisper, the sound had been so intense that Yami surprised even himself. The word was said at a nearly vaporous volume, fluttering into the air; uttered in a tone of ecstasy that he had never heard from himself before. He had never put so much passion into a moan, never made a noise like that - the thought of having said the wrong name barely crossed his mind.
It went ignored. There was suddenly a needy, solid press between his legs.
"Aah..." His pants were lusty and low, hips itching forward to tease the cock pushing between them. He wanted it - oh, he couldn't wait. "Haa... haa..."
He wouldn't have to. Hands gripped Yami's hips tightly, pulling him forward. The first thrust was hard, dry, and another followed without warning. The friction between them burned and Yami rolled his head back, shutting his eyes in pain. He felt as though he was being ripped open; there was no reprieve, muscles struggling to adjust to the mass that was violating him. Instinctively, his hips jutted back and away, but those hands held him firmly in place. It was excruciating. Was this punishment for the mistake he'd made? He had earned it.
"Take it." The hiss was feral, through gritted teeth.
Yami's body stole another intake of breath. His legs and thighs moved up, up, resting on small shoulders. Eyes screwed shut on his face, hips rolled hard to meet the new angle. Each stroke was deeper than the last as a hard cock pushed its way further inside. The pain was euphoric. Yami couldn't stop his legs from trembling. At this rate, he was going to come.
There was an aggressive snarl above him, and then a haughty chuckle. The thrusts didn't stop. "You're pathetic. Say it."
His body was adjusting to the mass inside it much more quickly than he wanted. Each stroke became less painful and more slick, the friction melting away. The cock was almost there, though, almost pressing to the back wall and when he reached it, Yami wouldn't be able to hold back at all.
The erection was pulled out of him unceremoniously, and Yami moaned at its absence. "Please..." he begged.
"Say it."
There was no reprimand for his disobedience, however, and without motivation to go on Yami would try his best to last a bit longer.
"I will stand here," he was told. "I don't have to fuck you at all. I'll blow all over your face and you'll get nothing. You're not going to push me around."
Nails dug into his thighs, dragging the skin underneath; and Yami took a deep breath to try to hold himself under control. The nails weren't pressing deep enough, weren't drawing blood and Yami was sure that he could resist the alluring sting. He could hold out for something more.
The hands trailed below, cupping around his buttocks, pulling him forward and lifting his hips higher.
"N-no," Yami whimpered weakly in protest, knowing that he wouldn't survive that. It would be too deep.
Without warning, rough hands squeezed Yami's balls and tugged downward. He hissed loudly as he tried to disguise his reaction, and cried out when the wave of agony proved too much for him. His own erection shuddered, and tears bundled at the corners of his eyes as he realized he was so hard he was beginning to hurt. It was torture.
But he still wanted more, wanted to be in tears, wanted nails to cut and teeth to bite through skin. Yami wanted to burn; it had been a lifetime since he'd felt hot wax searing his flesh. He wanted to see his own blood. Just the thought of it made him moan again, cock twitching more violently. His eyes screwed shut. He was going to -
One of the hands moved swiftly to the base of his shaft, squeezing even tighter than before. "You're not coming before me, you piece of shit."
Yami's hips were heaving - he could feel the orgasm traveling from the tips of his toes towards his torso. He knew how much it would hurt when it reached his loins, when the spasms were supposed to release but wouldn't; he writhed on the sheets, suffered alone in a dry orgasm. In desperate throes, Yami rasped, "P-pathe...tic! I'm..." between ragged breaths. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
The hand removed itself when Yami's body finished seizing.
A small breeze wafted over his face, and small puffs of breath brushed his right ear where a mouth was leaning close. "You're filthy. Did you know that?" There was a pause. "Are you ready to come properly? You've been so good for me. Been a while since I've had you like this. I miss it."
The breath on Yami's lobe made his entire body convulse.
"Hm? Are you ready?" The voice was suddenly playful, as though they were having fun.
Yami nodded, eyes still shut. He felt something hard press against his entrance and couldn't help arching his back.
"Beg for it." Hands that weren't his wiped away his tears in gentle motions. The touch was merciful, soft. Persuasive. "Go on."
Yami's erection was swollen from abuse - there was nothing more he wanted than release. His balls and the sheets beneath him were drenched in precum and colorless ejaculate. If he went any longer without it he would pass out. He would come as soon as he was entered, he knew.
"Master..." He couldn't help sobbing. "I... I need - "
"I know what you need." But the member pressing against him continued anyway, tip forcing past the tight ring of muscles. Yami's knees were pressed back against his torso and he held his breath as though that would somehow make him stronger.
He wasn't going to make it.
"I ca-can't," he whined, trying to convey his thoughts, but he sounded too pitiful. He wouldn't have listened to himself. "I'm going to..."
Lips covered his own in a soft kiss. Yami's eyes were still closed, but he responded to kiss weakly. His breaths were too quickly paced to sustain any embrace for a long time; the pain of his hard-on was constant, and it wouldn't wane until he came again - really came. Enfolding his body against his lover he tried to hold himself back, to wait until the Master gave his permission. He would try as hard as he could.
Those skilled hands trailed up his chest, fingertips brushing the sides of Yami's neck, and it made him shiver. Every second was a battle against sensations that threatened to conquer him. Palms rested against the hot skin of his throat, fingers spreading out to the sides, curling to cradle his chin.
"...oh..." Yami gasped as the pressure increased. "...no..." He realized what was happening, and his body did, too.
"Oh, yes," the voice said above him.
Yami opened his eyes just in time to see a sinister smile. Fingers tightened around his throat, nails piercing downward into his skin.
His cock throbbed before it erupted, heart pounding -
...
Red eyes snapped open as his body shuddered.
"Oh, shit." Yami didn't need to check underneath the sheets to know what was there. "Shit." He paused, and realized he was hyperventilating. Breaths were deep and fast, as though he'd run a mile. "Fuck."
First instinct was to flee the bed and check for damage. Goddamn it, he hadn't been expecting to wash sheets today. When he tried to move, however, his body protested vehemently. He'd just come, but he was still hard and both of those things were taxing.
"Fuck!" He didn't particularly care if he was being loud. Yami glanced around, mind reeling at the miniscule chance that perhaps Mokuba had come home really late from work that night. How would he explain this?
The bed was empty.
Imprinted in his mind were some details of the wet dream, but they were slipping away quickly, as dreams were wont to do. Yami took a few moments to relive it before they were gone. He'd blown a particularly heavy load; it was dripping down past his balls and he knew the sheets would be stained, too. If he was going to have to wash anyway, and Mokuba wasn't there - why rush?
"Fuck," he said again, resigned to the situation.
He frowned. Mokuba was nearly never home, so the cleanup would be easy. Yami knew where everything was in the flat; he might be late for work at the shop, but if he called ahead Gramps wouldn't get too angry.
He felt disgusted. Yami hadn't had a dream like that for a while, near a year at least. It wasn't a good sign. Running fingers over his face to make sure there weren't any tear streaks - a vivid detail he hadn't been able to shake - he sighed deeply. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but crying certainly wasn't an option.
"I'm pathetic," he whispered, but he really meant it.
That dream hadn't been about Mokuba.
---------------------------------------------------
I'm not sure what else to say about this other than - "Yep, this is what Yami really wants." I had a difficult time getting through this, honestly. I lost this post the first time I had conjured it up, and it took a long time to get over my devastation to add more to it again. I only have a few more prompts left now, so I'm hoping that I'll be able to finish this table up soon. It's been over a year since I've started, and I have to admit that doing more than two-thirds of a prompt table is still formidable - but I want to finish it.
I'm also going to start tagging these soon, I suppose.
Not sure how many people actually read my journal, or these when I post them, but if anyone around here catches this I wanted to pose a question: Should I put this up on AFF (adultfanfiction)? I've been thinking about it. I guess I should, because Be Cool if up there, but there are a lot of plot chapters and most of them aren't necessarily porn (unlike this one).
Anyway, I do hope that you enjoyed it. See you around!