PoT: PWP: Time
Title: 刻 (Time)
Pairing: Silver Pair
Series: Prince of Tennis
Disclaimer: ....nope.
Rating: Entry three to a smut meme. Yup.
Notes: Yet another stupidly long one. No wonder I fail at anonymity.
Request: Shishido x Ootori, that order, orgasm control with bondage. Anyone wanting to know about orgasm control: anon-san kindly provided a link
*_*_*_*
刻 (Time)
*_*_*_*_*
"Nnnnh... Shishido-sa... RYOU... ah..."
If he didn't get off, soon, he was going to die. Probably. Maybe. Ootori didn't even care if it was biologically possible--didn't there have to be a first time for everything? He'd been pulling and wrenching at the handcuffs around his wrists so hard that if they hadn't been padded, he'd probably have scuffed his skin raw--but they were surprisingly solid, for something that looked like a novelty toy. And he'd had to stop doing that after even the delicate plush of the satiny material got to be too much against his wrists, too sweet.
It wasn't that he had sensitive wrists--well, he did--it was that at this particular moment... just... well... everything was too sensitive. Ootori wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't implode on the spot if someone had stroked his hair right that instant.
But how had this happened? Oh, he knew Shishido-san was good--the gods only knew they had enough practice at being, well, with each other, after that first episode in the locker room showers after they'd won their Kantou prefectural match. In retrospect, it probably hadn't been good sex--they'd been sweaty and smelly--but they'd both been slick-hot and desperate, and they'd come so fast with their hands fumbling on each other's cocks that it would have been embarrassing at most any other time.
Ootori still remembered, though, even through the haze of more recent memories, that they'd come together, looking into each others' eyes, gasping. And it'd gotten even better--much better--after that.
So he hadn't even thought anything of Shishido-san snapping the handcuffs around his wrists, either--not when Shishido-san had smiled at him, that little quirk of a smile just around the corners of his eyes, and murmured, "Trust me, Choutarou?"
And the last time that his partner had said 'Trust me' to him, Ootori'd discovered just how good it felt to have the crazy, arrogant, beautiful boy he loved deep inside him, so he normally took him at his word. Even if he hadn't trusted his doubles partner of three years pretty unequivocally, the hot rough voice and the look in those eyes... they'd always been open about what they liked and didn't like. And there was little he liked quite so much as that tone.
Well, okay, maybe a few things.
He'd just thought that Shishido-san was playing around, making it even better, deeper, he first time Shishido'd brought him almost almost almost to the edge... and then withdrawn his mouth in a sleek, slow slide that was just enough to make him cry out... but not enough to brush him over. He hadn't thought anything of it, not then--with those blue eyes sparkling down at him over the plane of his stomach, Ootori had had to smile back, despite the lightning-cloud of pleasure hovering just out of his reach.
He'd started thinking about it when his count got to five, and he stopped smiling.
He wasn't able to think of anything but by the time he lost count, and discovered that even cotton sheets could feel unpleasantly good against his back. The uncomfortable rasp of the handcuff metal against the small of his back was the only thing that was keeping him even marginally sane.
"You're... Shishido-san, please...! I need..." oh, yes, he needed. The way his voice sounded was so strange, thin and choked through the tingling haze, but it felt like it had been hours that that mouth had been on him, working slick and hot and tireless... just that damnable tongue, at first, long broad strokes.
It'd started so innocuously, after all--Shishido-san gave great blowjobs, and he always started them with that teasing, clever tongue, following every groove, every vein, slicking every inch from base to tip. And then it'd been his lips, soft sweeps, and then, and only then, his mouth, slow and experienced. Those fingers were callused with tennis, slick with Shishido's mouth, and knowing enough on Ootori's cock that the second time he'd brought him to the edge, it'd been with hands alone. And sometimes, he even teased across him with the silk sweep of his dark shoulder-length hair.
Which, incidentally, was tickling on Ootori's thighs in just barely a caress, and why oh why oh why had he ever told his boyfriend that he thought it looked good long?
At this point, he'd have done anything, anything at all--if he'd so much as rolled over, he was all-too-certain that the blankets and that last infinitesmal moment of friction would have done the job. And as embarrassing as it might have been, hellfires, by this point, did he even care?
But Ootori'd never realised--he'd never even thought about it, why would he have?--just how much leverage you lost when your hands were cuffed behind your back... and your partner was a boy with tennis-strong arms and a very experienced mouth around your cock. And no matter how he'd rocked and bucked and sworn at the beginning...all that had gotten him was an arm pressed against his hips, low on his belly, and a chiding, cheerful, "Man, never knew you had such a mouth on you!"
It was very unsatisfying to be swearing at one's partner when one's partner could make one shut up--immediately, halfway through a string of curses that Ootori was sure he must have learned from his torturer himself--by sliding a blunt-tipped, lube-slick finger across Ootori's entrance. Every muscle in his body had gone tight and hopeful, that finger teasing, teasing, oh just barely, sliding across his rear and his sack when he hitched his hips, hopeful despite himself...
Being too eager, he'd realised an instant later, had been a mistake.
He'd never realised, either, how it could make his back spasm when Shishido's voice and tongue vibrated along his cock--especially when it was accompanied by a leisurely motion of the finger that had moved on from stroking him outside to sleeking across him inside. "Mmm, damn--you do beg nicely, Choutarou. Do that again."
No, he wasn't going to die. He was going to kill him. And he'd just opened his mouth to say so when another finger eased inside him--and curled.
"Please!" he yowled, instead.
He didn't think Shishido-san would listen. Shishido-san never had, in the past little eternity since Ootori'd laid on the bed and smilingly, stupidly, submitted to the handcuffs, after all.
But then, miracle of miracle of miracles... Ootori looked down just as Shishido smiled around him, face flushed and dark hair stuck to his cheeks... and the soft, hot, torturous mouth that had been his Heaven and his Hell for just about forever glided all the way down him in one impossibly fast stroke... and the two fingers inside him slid across him, just so, just so.
His vision went first, washing white and scarlet and sparks in front of his eyes--he didn't know if they were open or closed, he didn't even care--before he even realised he was coming. And if he'd thought the time before was long, it was nothing, not even comparable to the way his body simply wouldn't stop rebelling, taking his muscles and his heat and his pleasure and maybe his mind with it, when he could feel every swallow, ever motion of those lips, that tongue, the fingers not just holding within him but thrusting, now.
It was with something almost like distant astonishment that Ootori realised that he was screaming at the top of his lungs.
He never screamed. He cried out, he whimpered, but Shishido-san was the one who was much noisier between them... but that was his voice in his throat, high and keening and sharp, unbelievably wild.
It took a long, long time before his mind came back down.
It took even longer before the spasms and shudders eased enough that the arm lying across his hip came off, and those lips slid off him--slowly enough that it still wrung an entirely undignified whimper from him.
To put it in Shishido-san's terms, Dignity, Ootori thought, could screw itself.
"Fuckin' yeah, told you I'd get you screaming." He could hear the smile, the smugness, through the desire-thick rasp of his partner's voice, and he was sure it would have made him, smile, too, if he'd had any bones left in his body. "See? Didn't I tell you to trust me, Choutarou?"
He wasn't sure he had the brains left to even answer that, either. Hadn't he been contemplating some kind of mayhem earlier? Why in the world had he been doing that?
"How'd you... how... how?!" Oh. Gods. He wasn't going to open his eyes, he still had colours rolling across the insides of them. He'd been so close to the edge so many times that he should have had vertigo from it, and never once... never once had his Shishido-san actually let him fall. It was... insane.And even more insane just how hard he'd come.
But his boyfriend's laugh vibrated across his thigh, and he shuddered again when Shishido turned and pressed a kiss to his hip. "That, coming from the one who insisted on all that communication crap in the beginning?"
Well, yes, but... but considering how lost in the heat of the moment and the kisses and the sweet lush moment of penetration they both got... he hadn't actually expected Shishido to be listening, much less actually paying attention to... to... well... everything. Or anything.
When Ootori cracked open an eye, Shishido-san grinned at him--or at least Ootori thought that was a grin, with his vision still literally quite blurry, and he didn't quite realise that tears had come to his eyes until one tickled its way down his cheek. "Choutarou..."
"Mmmh?" surely, surely, Shishido wasn't going to expect him to be very coherent after that, was he?
"...if you think I'm done with you, Choutarou, you'd better think again."
Ootori's last thought before the sensation of Shishido pushing into him in one long, steady stroke washed like hot water over his still-trembling body, was, I knew all that "communication crap" was a good idea...
~owari~
May 23, 2007
Pairing: Silver Pair
Series: Prince of Tennis
Disclaimer: ....nope.
Rating: Entry three to a smut meme. Yup.
Notes: Yet another stupidly long one. No wonder I fail at anonymity.
Request: Shishido x Ootori, that order, orgasm control with bondage. Anyone wanting to know about orgasm control: anon-san kindly provided a link
*_*_*_*
刻 (Time)
*_*_*_*_*
"Nnnnh... Shishido-sa... RYOU... ah..."
If he didn't get off, soon, he was going to die. Probably. Maybe. Ootori didn't even care if it was biologically possible--didn't there have to be a first time for everything? He'd been pulling and wrenching at the handcuffs around his wrists so hard that if they hadn't been padded, he'd probably have scuffed his skin raw--but they were surprisingly solid, for something that looked like a novelty toy. And he'd had to stop doing that after even the delicate plush of the satiny material got to be too much against his wrists, too sweet.
It wasn't that he had sensitive wrists--well, he did--it was that at this particular moment... just... well... everything was too sensitive. Ootori wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't implode on the spot if someone had stroked his hair right that instant.
But how had this happened? Oh, he knew Shishido-san was good--the gods only knew they had enough practice at being, well, with each other, after that first episode in the locker room showers after they'd won their Kantou prefectural match. In retrospect, it probably hadn't been good sex--they'd been sweaty and smelly--but they'd both been slick-hot and desperate, and they'd come so fast with their hands fumbling on each other's cocks that it would have been embarrassing at most any other time.
Ootori still remembered, though, even through the haze of more recent memories, that they'd come together, looking into each others' eyes, gasping. And it'd gotten even better--much better--after that.
So he hadn't even thought anything of Shishido-san snapping the handcuffs around his wrists, either--not when Shishido-san had smiled at him, that little quirk of a smile just around the corners of his eyes, and murmured, "Trust me, Choutarou?"
And the last time that his partner had said 'Trust me' to him, Ootori'd discovered just how good it felt to have the crazy, arrogant, beautiful boy he loved deep inside him, so he normally took him at his word. Even if he hadn't trusted his doubles partner of three years pretty unequivocally, the hot rough voice and the look in those eyes... they'd always been open about what they liked and didn't like. And there was little he liked quite so much as that tone.
Well, okay, maybe a few things.
He'd just thought that Shishido-san was playing around, making it even better, deeper, he first time Shishido'd brought him almost almost almost to the edge... and then withdrawn his mouth in a sleek, slow slide that was just enough to make him cry out... but not enough to brush him over. He hadn't thought anything of it, not then--with those blue eyes sparkling down at him over the plane of his stomach, Ootori had had to smile back, despite the lightning-cloud of pleasure hovering just out of his reach.
He'd started thinking about it when his count got to five, and he stopped smiling.
He wasn't able to think of anything but by the time he lost count, and discovered that even cotton sheets could feel unpleasantly good against his back. The uncomfortable rasp of the handcuff metal against the small of his back was the only thing that was keeping him even marginally sane.
"You're... Shishido-san, please...! I need..." oh, yes, he needed. The way his voice sounded was so strange, thin and choked through the tingling haze, but it felt like it had been hours that that mouth had been on him, working slick and hot and tireless... just that damnable tongue, at first, long broad strokes.
It'd started so innocuously, after all--Shishido-san gave great blowjobs, and he always started them with that teasing, clever tongue, following every groove, every vein, slicking every inch from base to tip. And then it'd been his lips, soft sweeps, and then, and only then, his mouth, slow and experienced. Those fingers were callused with tennis, slick with Shishido's mouth, and knowing enough on Ootori's cock that the second time he'd brought him to the edge, it'd been with hands alone. And sometimes, he even teased across him with the silk sweep of his dark shoulder-length hair.
Which, incidentally, was tickling on Ootori's thighs in just barely a caress, and why oh why oh why had he ever told his boyfriend that he thought it looked good long?
At this point, he'd have done anything, anything at all--if he'd so much as rolled over, he was all-too-certain that the blankets and that last infinitesmal moment of friction would have done the job. And as embarrassing as it might have been, hellfires, by this point, did he even care?
But Ootori'd never realised--he'd never even thought about it, why would he have?--just how much leverage you lost when your hands were cuffed behind your back... and your partner was a boy with tennis-strong arms and a very experienced mouth around your cock. And no matter how he'd rocked and bucked and sworn at the beginning...all that had gotten him was an arm pressed against his hips, low on his belly, and a chiding, cheerful, "Man, never knew you had such a mouth on you!"
It was very unsatisfying to be swearing at one's partner when one's partner could make one shut up--immediately, halfway through a string of curses that Ootori was sure he must have learned from his torturer himself--by sliding a blunt-tipped, lube-slick finger across Ootori's entrance. Every muscle in his body had gone tight and hopeful, that finger teasing, teasing, oh just barely, sliding across his rear and his sack when he hitched his hips, hopeful despite himself...
Being too eager, he'd realised an instant later, had been a mistake.
He'd never realised, either, how it could make his back spasm when Shishido's voice and tongue vibrated along his cock--especially when it was accompanied by a leisurely motion of the finger that had moved on from stroking him outside to sleeking across him inside. "Mmm, damn--you do beg nicely, Choutarou. Do that again."
No, he wasn't going to die. He was going to kill him. And he'd just opened his mouth to say so when another finger eased inside him--and curled.
"Please!" he yowled, instead.
He didn't think Shishido-san would listen. Shishido-san never had, in the past little eternity since Ootori'd laid on the bed and smilingly, stupidly, submitted to the handcuffs, after all.
But then, miracle of miracle of miracles... Ootori looked down just as Shishido smiled around him, face flushed and dark hair stuck to his cheeks... and the soft, hot, torturous mouth that had been his Heaven and his Hell for just about forever glided all the way down him in one impossibly fast stroke... and the two fingers inside him slid across him, just so, just so.
His vision went first, washing white and scarlet and sparks in front of his eyes--he didn't know if they were open or closed, he didn't even care--before he even realised he was coming. And if he'd thought the time before was long, it was nothing, not even comparable to the way his body simply wouldn't stop rebelling, taking his muscles and his heat and his pleasure and maybe his mind with it, when he could feel every swallow, ever motion of those lips, that tongue, the fingers not just holding within him but thrusting, now.
It was with something almost like distant astonishment that Ootori realised that he was screaming at the top of his lungs.
He never screamed. He cried out, he whimpered, but Shishido-san was the one who was much noisier between them... but that was his voice in his throat, high and keening and sharp, unbelievably wild.
It took a long, long time before his mind came back down.
It took even longer before the spasms and shudders eased enough that the arm lying across his hip came off, and those lips slid off him--slowly enough that it still wrung an entirely undignified whimper from him.
To put it in Shishido-san's terms, Dignity, Ootori thought, could screw itself.
"Fuckin' yeah, told you I'd get you screaming." He could hear the smile, the smugness, through the desire-thick rasp of his partner's voice, and he was sure it would have made him, smile, too, if he'd had any bones left in his body. "See? Didn't I tell you to trust me, Choutarou?"
He wasn't sure he had the brains left to even answer that, either. Hadn't he been contemplating some kind of mayhem earlier? Why in the world had he been doing that?
"How'd you... how... how?!" Oh. Gods. He wasn't going to open his eyes, he still had colours rolling across the insides of them. He'd been so close to the edge so many times that he should have had vertigo from it, and never once... never once had his Shishido-san actually let him fall. It was... insane.And even more insane just how hard he'd come.
But his boyfriend's laugh vibrated across his thigh, and he shuddered again when Shishido turned and pressed a kiss to his hip. "That, coming from the one who insisted on all that communication crap in the beginning?"
Well, yes, but... but considering how lost in the heat of the moment and the kisses and the sweet lush moment of penetration they both got... he hadn't actually expected Shishido to be listening, much less actually paying attention to... to... well... everything. Or anything.
When Ootori cracked open an eye, Shishido-san grinned at him--or at least Ootori thought that was a grin, with his vision still literally quite blurry, and he didn't quite realise that tears had come to his eyes until one tickled its way down his cheek. "Choutarou..."
"Mmmh?" surely, surely, Shishido wasn't going to expect him to be very coherent after that, was he?
"...if you think I'm done with you, Choutarou, you'd better think again."
Ootori's last thought before the sensation of Shishido pushing into him in one long, steady stroke washed like hot water over his still-trembling body, was, I knew all that "communication crap" was a good idea...
~owari~
May 23, 2007