Yesterday was national kissing day, and I was talking about how it would have been a good excuse for a kiss meme, and how it seemed those kind of themed memes seemed to have died out a little
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Re: Pete/Travie: Hold OnromanticalgirlJuly 12 2011, 06:02:19 UTC
Pete’s on his tiptoes, his fingers curved around the rope above his head so tight he can feel it digging into his palms. His head is a fuzzy slate, no edges, nothing sharp or painful. He shifts his weight back, trying to lower his heels to the ground and pain flares explode along his nerve endings. He rises back up on his toes, trying to get higher, trying to find the point where it stops.
"Easy." He barely hears the word, like he's under water, but he feels the relief when strong hands lift him, when the pressure and tension is relieved. He stays on his toes when he's set on the ground again, conditioned for a little while not to trust having his own balance. Eventually he settles back, and nothing happens. That's right about when his knees give way.
Strong hands again, picking him up and carrying him, settling him on a bed. Something soft. He thinks it's a bed. Might be his bed. It smells good, familiar, but the pictures in his head aren't lining up with words, and he can't think. It's like a kind of amnesia, willfully undertaken, emptying out everything so it can fill back up again.
"Perfect." That word is clearer, as is the painful spike of circulation that hits his wrists, the ropes slowly unwound from his arms. He opens his mouth to make a sound, but nothing comes out, all the words gone. The small foam ball he'd had clenched between his teeth falls out, wet with spit as it lands on his chest.
"So beautiful, baby boy." Pete recognizes the voice now, and with the voice comes the smell and the vision and he can see it all clearly formed in his head. He lifts his hand, the be free immediately matched with a young hearts. "I got you."
He doesn't try to talk again. He doesn't need to now. Instead he closes his eyes and turns his head up, seeking out the warmth of Travie's mouth, the soft burn of smoke on his tongue. They kiss for what feels like hours or maybe days, until Travie pulls back, kissing Pete's nose. "I got you now." He whispers as sleep drags at Pete. "You're safe."
Re: Pete/Travie: Hold Onturps33July 12 2011, 12:01:13 UTC
You know, while this is hot to think about, what I like most is that Pete has someone there to help him clear his head and give him those moments of peace.
He lifts his hand, the be free immediately matched with a young hearts. "I got you."
Re: Pete/Travie: Hold OnromanticalgirlJuly 13 2011, 03:21:02 UTC
When I think of Pete in a D/s kind of situation, it's very rarely sex-based. There might be sex or sexual-type situations involved, but it's more about shutting off his brain, shutting up the constant stream of words and noises and demands and just floating, being.
It's also possible that I have an intense need for Pete to be taken care of, and that comes through in stuff like this. Hee.
"Easy." He barely hears the word, like he's under water, but he feels the relief when strong hands lift him, when the pressure and tension is relieved. He stays on his toes when he's set on the ground again, conditioned for a little while not to trust having his own balance. Eventually he settles back, and nothing happens. That's right about when his knees give way.
Strong hands again, picking him up and carrying him, settling him on a bed. Something soft. He thinks it's a bed. Might be his bed. It smells good, familiar, but the pictures in his head aren't lining up with words, and he can't think. It's like a kind of amnesia, willfully undertaken, emptying out everything so it can fill back up again.
"Perfect." That word is clearer, as is the painful spike of circulation that hits his wrists, the ropes slowly unwound from his arms. He opens his mouth to make a sound, but nothing comes out, all the words gone. The small foam ball he'd had clenched between his teeth falls out, wet with spit as it lands on his chest.
"So beautiful, baby boy." Pete recognizes the voice now, and with the voice comes the smell and the vision and he can see it all clearly formed in his head. He lifts his hand, the be free immediately matched with a young hearts. "I got you."
He doesn't try to talk again. He doesn't need to now. Instead he closes his eyes and turns his head up, seeking out the warmth of Travie's mouth, the soft burn of smoke on his tongue. They kiss for what feels like hours or maybe days, until Travie pulls back, kissing Pete's nose. "I got you now." He whispers as sleep drags at Pete. "You're safe."
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He lifts his hand, the be free immediately matched with a young hearts. "I got you."
So lovely.
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It's also possible that I have an intense need for Pete to be taken care of, and that comes through in stuff like this. Hee.
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