Drabble Tennis II, Round 2?
Because our last post has reached 700 comments which is frankly unbelievable, but since the drabble bug still seems to be biting a few people, here we have Round II Part 2. Feel free to post new drabbles here instead, rather than wade through the last post
( Read more... )
Yet, he considered this a piece of art in it’s most basic, primal sense.
Getting Shinjiro to sit somewhat still for this was a fun exercise in of itself. The cook had argued, yelled, thrashed and finally submitted in small degrees. It was hard to resist Gin if he didn’t simply get bored early on, and this was something he had been thinking about on and off for quite awhile. There was no way something as small as his canvases’ free will was going to get in his way.
He had shown a bit of kindness when it came to the rope. He had been tempted to use hemp, picturing the hundreds of tiny scratches and skin being rubbed red and raw. But in the end went with something a bit softer… though of course it was also easier to use. To twist and braid and handle. No point in letting Shinjiro know there was any other reason then that.
Said braiding and twisting had taken hours of careful work, but he was pleased to see Shinji held up well to it. He didn’t complain verbally, though occasionally his muscles would shudder from sitting still so long. Every time they did he would stop, wait. Eventually his canvas would still, if just to not drag things out longer.
The rope was pale in color. Gin had picked it out that way on purpose. It contrasted so wonderfully against tan skin. He had teased Shinjiro about it before, the lack of any tan lines on his skin, asking if the orphanage had promoted nude sunbathing. Shinjiro had just snarled. The only discoloration was those shallow scars, and Gin had made sure to highlight them in his work, the braiding never covering more then it had to, accenting them while in turn winding around muscles and joints like albino snakes. Up around shoulders and down spine, looped up the crook of hip and leg. Tight, tight enough to cause a dim, pleasant-painful pressure everywhere, but especially those most sensitive areas, squeezing chest and groin and pulling arms up behind his back. The pressure was constant, had to be maddening. A human’s touch could be harsher, but always varied. This was a regular as radio static. Low, but always there, slowly eating it’s way into nerves.
By the end of it Shinjiro’s face was slack, gray eyes glazed and half closed. Gin had pulled the thick mass that was his hair back early on, not wanting to miss an expression, but a few strands had come free or never made it up in the first place. They framed his face and gave an air of dishevelment, of having been ravaged. They stuck to his face in places now, his heavy breathing making them shift. His mouth was slightly open, lips saliva slick. An outsider may have wondered if the young man was stoned or drunk. But Gin knew better. It was just pure sensation, his mind far away and just feeling.
Gin chuckled lowly, leaning over and swiping his thumb over those slick lips, trailing it lower and lower until he reached Shinji’s straining erection. Fluid had long since built up and spilled over, but any more then that was impossible. The ropes were just as good as any cock-ring in their own way. He rubbed at the head, spreading the slickness around. He’s rewarded with a low groan, Shinjiro’s entire chest vibrating and making the ropes flex and move. The chuckle became an outright laugh, and Gin stepped away, not giving anymore then a tease, a taste for what he had in mind later. But first…
Shinsou gleamed in the dim lighting, and the press of it’s unsheathing causes Shinjiro to finally look up, some spark returning to his eyes.
“Now Shinji-kun… let’s add a little color to this piece~”
Reply
MY
GOD
JESS
/SLKJDLJ
THIS IS
SO
FECKING AWESOME OMGGGGGG
/w-wants more *A*
/ponders continuing if you don't want to
Reply
INCLUDING A LOT OF HAIR DETAIL, IDEK WHY
I MUST BE SOME KIND OF AWFUL PERV XD
/and you are free to run with it if you want B3
Reply
I DON'T BLAME YOU
/FANS SELF
/S-SOMEWHAT DISTRACTED FROM TAGS OMG
/WANTS TO WRITE BLOODPLAY SEXXORZ
Reply
I r a bad person kekeke
Reply
/THROWS UP HANDS
/GOES TO GET THIS TERRIBLY COMPELLING IMAGERY OUT OF HER HEAD
Reply
Reply
His reaction to that tiny, negligible wound was almost humiliating, but he’d been drowning in that low buzz of not-quite-satisfying pressure for hours now and with that little cut he arched and everything pulled. He’d have conceded it was all very skilfully down if he could have thought at all, but even though he could barely move at all the smallest shift made every inch of rope coil around him, constricting his arms, his chest, up between his legs, almost dangerously around his neck. It dug into his skin and the sensation made his world go white with a breathtaking pleasure/pain that made him cry out, but just as quickly his muscles gave out and he went limp again.
Ready for the next cut.
He was breathing far too hard for what little Gin had done. The other man lifted his chin to better admire what must have been a truly pathetic look on his face and Shinji tried to work up the coherency to swear at him. “D-damn you.”
“Is it too much?” Gin asked him with that aggravating, false contriteness. “I can go slower.”
And he did. The next graze of Shinsou’s blade was along his shoulder, agonizingly deliberate, and Shinji’s voice was a ragged whimper by the time it was done. He tried to shift his knee to ease the rope pulling around his thigh, but that only made the one that bound his wrists pull tighter. It might have started an avalanche of futile struggling if he hadn’t forced himself to stillness, worst of all because he wanted to rock his hips but knew no amount of squirming or pleading would get Gin to touch his cock.
The white rope had started to stain red in places, along with Shinji’s bronze skin, which would surely appeal to someone with Gin’s twisted aesthetic, but from the demonic light in his eyes he was far more interest in the art of performance than imagery. Worst of all was that he’d barely started. It should have horrified him, but all he could think of was when Gin would finally take that blade and turn it on someplace even more sensitive. Across the soft skin of his throat, vulnerable tips of his nipples, the head of his cock, god…
He could picture it so vividly. Gin would tease him first, most likely, use the blunt side of his sword to mime the cuts he was going to make, the press of cold steel on his shaft sawing mockingly before he finally turned the blade and-
And it only made him harder. He only wanted it more, to feel those sharp, horrible tortures, until he screamed and came completely undone. He was so painfully turned on by the mere thought, so addicted, so eager and out of control, he was almost glad for the ropes that kept him bound and helpless. He mewled weakly when Gin raised his sword again, wishing it was over and wishing it would last forever in the same thought, but either way it wasn’t his choice, and that too felt good. Freeing.
“Ready?” Gin asked him, setting Shinsou’s tip against Shinji’s side, lightly caressing the curve of his ribs with hungry steel.
Shiinji’s nod was far too fervent.
Reply
/OMFG
/U-UNF
/I LUV YOU CY *___*/
Reply
HNNNGH
/FINDS THIS FAR TOO SEXY
/THIS IS HITTING A GOOD NUMBER OF CY'S KINK BUTTONS, UNF
Reply
S-SAME HERE
/SOB
Reply
DO THE NEXT PART
WE'LL TAKE TURNS 8D
UNTIL SHINJI PASSES OUT ♥
Reply
LET'S SEE WHAT
COMES OUT B3
Reply
/GOES TO
/STUFF NOSE WITH TISSUES
/SO AS NOT TO DIE OF BLOODLOSS
Reply
He couldn’t understand how he was able to remain upright, except the knowledge that to fall was to start that chain reaction that would end in him strangling himself to death. And he knew without a doubt the Gin would make no move to right him. This knowledge sat in the back of his head and stewed there, made the blood seeping from seeming hundreds of cuts run hot. He didn’t know the words “autoerotic asphyxiation”, but he understood the concept well enough, it seemed.
But even those random thoughts were quickly broken up and blow away when the flat of Shinsou’s blade taped the side of his cock, like a swat for attention. That light touch made him whimper loudly, hips wanting to arch and nothing but will keeping them still.
“Don’t tell me I’m starting to bore you?” Gin taunted, leaning forward, smearing Shinji’s face with the side of Shinsou, painting it red. Without thinking Shinjiro leaned forward, the gleam of silver and red eating up his vision until he can finally taste it.
A laugh, and the blade was being held out for him, blood dripping from the tip and hitting the floor. Cleaning it was going to be a bitch. But for once such things were very far from his mind. All that was left was the sudden taste of copper on his tongue as it slipped out to lap at the offered blade. And under the blood, the acidic taste of metal. The two tastes were not pleasant by any means, but all he wanted was more of it, to lay worship to the thing that had come so close to taking his life so many times. There was no shame in his movements, and he ran his mouth over it like a wanton thing, sucking at the dull side. He could almost feel the thrum of Shinsou’s power in his teeth, and that alone was more reason to keep going, leaving slick clear trails behind were ever he cleaned it.
Any moment the blade could have twisted, take his tongue, his cheek, his eye. It never did, but the manic gleam of green eyes told him that the thought passed through Gin’s mind. Or Shinsou’s.
Reply
/and knows exactly how she wants to continue this
/GLEE
Reply
Leave a comment