Public Displays
Title: Public Displays
Universe: Marvel: X-Men
Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Daken
Rating: mature. M/M sex (slash!), some language
Word Count: 3,998
Disclaimer: i do not own any of the Marvel-ous men contained within this fic. they are all owned by Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm not making any money off this. just writing for shits and giggles. pleas don't sue me.
Summary: it doesn't take much for Remy to earn a little bit of punishment from his lover.
Author's Note: written for dazzledfirestar based on the kinks and pairings listed on her LiveJournal for the Five Kinks Meme. i think this kind of got away from me. i really hope this fits with your kinks and all. enjoy.
He kneels on the floor and waits patiently. It doesn't matter that he's been teetering on the razor's edge all day. It doesn't matter that his cock aches so fiercely that one accidental whisper of air across it will see him exploding in orgasm. It doesn't matter that he cannot, for the life of him, recall what he's done to warrant such treatment. None of that matters in the face of his discipline. Of the punishment that his lover has deemed he needs. All that matters is that he sits, remains silent, and waits.
This has happened before. Little infractions that earned him similar treatments. But never had he been forced to wait so long. He has been told that failure to follow the instructions laid down for him will result in something worse. Something that is perhaps humiliating. Something that may bring him no small measure of pain.
He is not afraid of pain. He's suffered through his fair share over the years. But his lover is ingenious with such things and there is always the fear, albeit a small one, that things may go too far. Then again, when one dares to play with a wild animal, one should expect to get hurt.
His eyes are closed, though not because of any order given to him. They are closed because it helps ease the need if he doesn't have to look around at all the expectant faces. They are both sexual creatures. It is a part of their nature. But while he has always been more conscious of where he engages in his affairs, his lover has no such set limits. His lover doesn't care if they are at home in the privacy of their own room or in the backseat of a friend's car as it speeds down the highway. Whatever his lover wants, his lover usually gets. This is the first time, however, that they have come to such a place with the intention of finding release and gratification.
Tonight, they will have sex before a large crowd of people.
He can feel them gathered around the stage, the hum of their emotions battering against him. It is almost as if they are trying to make him fail, as if they want to see what will happen if he fails to do as he's been told. But he and his partner have played this game before. And his control is better than that.
Pushing the noise and feel of the eager crowd away from him, his mind rolls back to just last week. That night had been his night to control and dominate. His night to order his lover about. They had gone out to some bar, had drinks. Watched frightened men in sloppy shirts and rumpled suits drink themselves until they were blind drunk. Watched those same men seek out a partner for the night, their actions furtive. Full of guilt and self-loathing. The thick ribbon of need that had unwound from those men had left him hungry and unwilling to wait. It was the emotions coming from those other men that had prompted him to grab his lover by the arm and drag him out into the filthy alley behind the bar.
No words had needed to be spoken. They'd fallen upon one another, their hands tugging at offending garments while their desire wrapped them in its embrace. They'd only bared the skin that was absolutely necessary as their mouths had battled for dominance. Hands, strong and sure and hot, had crept over skin, tweaking and teasing and mapping. Forcing their passions higher. Making their need for one another stronger.
The other man had grazed his nipples with sharp nails, sending little skirls of pleasurable pain through him. He'd fed his lover a moan when the man's hand had curled around his exposed cock and stroked. That single touch had been the last straw. It had seen him shoving his lover against the bricks so hard that the man had grunted with the action. Everything had happened so swiftly after that. There'd been no time for preparation beyond a pair of rough fingers in his lover's ass to loosen the muscles. Lubrication came in the form of his spit, despite the fact that he knew his lover wouldn't mind if there was extra friction.
They'd fucked fast and hard, his hips thrashing wildly against his lover's body, the man's back pressed hard against the brick wall. The distant sound of cars passing, of the conversation between pedestrians as they walked the sidewalk, served as a soft backdrop to their moans, groans, grunts and the slapping of flesh against flesh. His lover had his strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist while his own fingers curled over the top of a pair of bricks in order to help keep himself stable. The rough surface of the bricks had cut into his palms, left them burning and abraded.
None of that had mattered in the face of their climbing desires. Part of the reason he'd dragged them out into the alley had been because of the thrill that came from knowing that someone out there might hear them. Might catch them. Might stop to watch them. The fact that they could be discovered, that someone might see them doing something considered taboo, had been more than enough to drive common sense from his mind. And in the end, it had been the knowledge that they could be discovered that had thrilled through him and pushed him over the edge. He'd filled his lover's ass, his hips managing a few final thrusts while the other man's hand had reached for his own cock, had stroked fast and furious until he'd come all over both their bellies.
It is like that between them. One night, he is the one who has all of the power and control. The next night, his lover will be the one who directs their coupling. Their passion stems from their loneliness, their need to dominate. To be dominated. There is no real love between them. His love is long gone, out of his reach. He isn't sure that his lover has ever felt such an emotion for anyone other than himself. That doesn't matter. They've replaced emotional love with physical need, used their unique gifts to fan the flames. His charm is a soft and subtle thing, something that his lover barely notices. It is effective in getting the job done, though.
His lover... The pheromones are strong. Impossible to ignore. They can be used against a single person or they can be used upon an entire room. He's seen first hand what can be done with those pheromones. He's felt it. More than once, he's found himself in the midst of an orgy while his lover stands back and watches with a smug, masculine smile upon his face. Men and women alike fall to his lover's gift. And though the other man may occasionally punish him by forcing him to watch as someone else sucks his cock or his balls, he always returns to him. They are now, and will always be, a couple.
A shift in the emotions around him tells him that his lover is near. The crowd is growing hungry, their anticipation battering his already worn senses as his lover uses his gift to drive them into a frenzy of need. All the better to watch the coming show, no doubt. The other man feeds on such events as this. No doubt there will be another orgy before the night is out.
"Look at me, Remy." The low voice is filled with command and, with that one sentence, he has his identity back. Another of the games they play. Pushing aside the notion that they have a name, that they are an individual. Until their name is spoken, they are simply... he and him. Them. They.
His eyes open to find his lover standing over him. All he wears upon his body is skin tight leather. It encases him from his hips to his ankles, clinging to each curve of muscle and every line. It outlines the thick, rigid length of his cock. Emphasizes that he is just as turned on by this as Remy is.
Intense hunger sweeps through Remy's lean body and pools in his groin. His own cock jerks, though no other part of him moves. Blue eyes stare down at him while his lover gives the appearance of mulling over what he plans on doing. As if Remy has any doubt as to which game they are playing tonight. He only wishes that his lover would hurry and say something because his hands ache to trail across the ridged planes of the man's muscles, powerful thighs and glorious cock.
A need that has nothing to do with pheromones burns deep within his soul.
"Show them." That's all his lover needs to say. Remy moves then, rising up on his knees so that his hands can pull at the lacing that holds the leather pants closed. He's done this before, a thousand times, so that he can simply stare up into the other man's face while agile fingers tug the thin cord out of the holes. One hand drops the single lace to the floor while his other begins peeling the leather away from his lover's skin.
His eyes look only at the other man's body as he slowly drags the leather down far enough to expose the length of the man's cock and the rock hard curves of his ass. The sense Remy has of the crowd surges as their need grows and fills the air. They are excited to see the show that is about to take place. He has no doubt that they will be driven to the very precipice before things between himself and his lover are completed. And he knows that this is something the other man will enjoy. Deeply. Even Remy will find a more intense completion because of the emotions that swirl around them. They are as much an aphrodisiac to him as the touch of his lover's hand or the look in his eye.
With the other man's erection exposed, he settles back down and lays his hands against his thighs. And waits. He can see the crowd out of the corner of his eye, can see the lust in their eyes as well as he can feel it on the air. Like him, they are staring at the other man's thick shaft. They, too, are waiting for the man to give his permission to Remy. They want to see the show that they've been promised. He simply wants to lose himself in the feel of his lover's skin, the smell and taste of him, the sensuality of such a very private act made so very public.
One of his lover's hands reaches out and curls around Remy's chin. It is a silent order that he doesn't hesitate to obey. He leans forward, eyes falling shut while his mouth opens in anticipation of taking the man's cock between his lips. He can feel the crowd, can feel their eager hunger clinging to him, stroking across his senses and his body like ghostly fingers. He shudders softly, then the moment is gone as the head of his lover's erection passes his lips.
He takes it in slowly, his tongue licking gently up and down the underside of the shaft. He sucks at it, his actions almost leisurely. He wants to savor this part because he knows that when he's given the order, he will apply himself to giving his lover pleasure. He will lose himself and simply become an instrument of pleasure. This is part of the game they play with one another. His lover knows that he enjoys this part. He knows that his lover allows it to happen for just that reason. He also knows that such pleasure can be taken from him in the blink of an eye. His lover is fickle.
He lets his hands skim up his lover's legs, his long fingers teasing and touching from the man's ankles to his hips. He plies his charm, pressing it into the other man in order to enhance his pleasure. His fingers glide across the slick leather, dip into the opening in his trousers so that he can play with his lover's balls. He feels the shudder that runs up the man's spine and his touch earns him a thrust of his lover's hips. The action buries the man's cock deeper in his throat. Remy smiles and swallows.
A groan rumbles up his lover's throat and the man's hands curl around his head, fingers digging into his hair. That is the signal. Remy pushes the feel of the crowd's hunger away and gives himself over to sucking cock and giving pleasure.
Time falls away. All he knows is the texture of his lover's skin and the growing desire that is building around them. His hands move so that he can settle them on the other man's hips. It is a way to steady himself, a way to feel the warmth of the man's skin against his own.
The hunger beats at him and, slowly, the sounds of other couples engaging in pleasurable acts filters into his brain. Soft moans. Deep groans. Wet sounds. Skin slapping skin. It pushes and drives him, makes his actions faster. Makes his cock twitch and jump with need.
It all ends suddenly. His only warning is a soft growl. Then the hands in his hair are roughly jerking him back. Remy finds himself stumbling to catch his balance, something that almost never happens. He is so caught up in his partner, though, that he can't help himself. With a look from the other man, he settles back onto his knees and waits while his lover walks away. He is going to bring something out for the rest of the show. Remy allows his gaze to move over the crowd. The crowd is undulating and writhing, hands and mouths seeking out body parts. It doesn't seem to matter if those parts belong to the body they're with or the body that's beside them. The room is already erupting into an orgy.
His lover returns, carrying with him a heavy chair. It is well cushioned and has arms over which he can hook his legs. Obviously his lover plans on putting him fully on display. He remains where he's kneeling, awaiting word from the other man before he moves.
The chair is set down beside him with a resounding thump. He watches his lover remove a small tube from the seat of the chair before sitting down. He hands the tube to Remy, his fingers lingering as their hands touch. That brief contact sends shivers up and down his spine. There's heat in the man's fingers, and promise. Remy takes the tube wordlessly. His lover looks up at him. "Make yourself ready."
Remy nods wordlessly, unscrews the top from the tube and squeezes a goodly amount of the lube onto his fingers. He has been waiting for this moment, waiting naked in the middle of the stage with the knowledge running through his head that he would be the main attraction. He's glad that such an event has not seen his lover forgetting the lubricant. This is something they do every time. That they have to do every time. While his lover can take rough or impulsive sex without much preparation, he cannot. He doesn't have the healing factor the other man has. Care must be taken lest he finds himself injured.
Laying the tube down, he lifts his foot and rests it on the arm of the chair. His eyes are not on the crowd as he reaches back to press his fingers into his ass. He is watching his lover, waiting for the approval. The tension snaps to life within him the moment his questing digits breach that hidden ring of muscle. A soft hiss escapes his throat, which earns him a chuckle from the other man. His lover knows exactly what this does to him. That's why he makes Remy do it.
He spends several minutes preparing himself. It is a repetitive task. Apply lube to his fingers, press his fingers into his ass, fuck his ass and spread his fingers to loosen the muscles. The entire time he does this, his lover watches him. As if to ensure that he does what he's been told to do. As if to ensure that he will always follow orders. After a time, the man's hand lifts to catch Remy's arm. "Enough. Turn and face the audience. Let them see how beautiful you are."
Remy turns and faces the audience as he's been ordered. He feels more than sees the other man stand, then shivers when one of his rough hands trails softly down his arm to his hip. It travels inward and briefly grazes his cock. That touch sees him hissing, clenching his teeth, as his body reacts and shudders. His erection twitches, as if begging for more. Then that same hand is fisted in his hair, tugging him down so that his lover can take his mouth in a fiery, passionate, possessive kiss.
This is what Remy wants. This is what thrills him. The way control switches from one of them to the other. Possession is subjective. Which ever of them is in control is the one who is in possession of the other. It is this that keeps him at his lover's side. He could find better with someone else. More. But he doesn't want better or more. He wants this. The constant struggle for dominance. The thrilling sexual encounters. The never knowing if the ground beneath their feet will remain stable. He wants all of this and more. Everything his lover has to offer him.
Remy falls into the kiss, his hands creeping up to settle at the man's hips. Their bodies are pressed together all hard muscle and hard cocks rubbing back and forth against each other. The man's tongue shoves into his mouth, dances across his own as it explores and probes. Remy's hands find his lover's ass, curl over the curves and press him closer. And just like that, the kiss is over and the other man is breaking away from him.
His lover retakes the chair and once more hands him the lube. "Finish it, pet."
Remy squeezes out more of the lube, this time into his palm, and leans down to wrap his hand around his lover's cock. His grip is light, his up and down motion slow and steady even as his twists his fist around the diameter to spread the lube around it. He works the lube along the length of the thick erection, his eyes watching the man's face. There is heat in those blue eyes, along with smugness and masculine pride. A nod of his lover's head sees him lifting up and straightening. "Show them who owns you."
His hands are there to help Remy down into his lap. This is something they've done before, so it is a simple matter for Remy to position himself properly while the other man takes hold of his cock with one hand and Remy's hip with his other hand. Together, they work him down so that his lover's cock presses into his ass while he lowers himself until he's sitting in the other man's lap.
Remy shifts his legs, propping them over the arms so that he can use them as leverage. His hands settle behind his legs and he begins to work himself up and down. The slick feel of the shaft in his ass sees his eyes falling closed. His head tips back as gasping breaths burst from his throat. Tension spirals through him, leaving him trembling with need. He wants to come, wants to lose himself. But he first needs permission. Another game, another opportunity to earn punishment.
His lover's hands stroke up and down his chest, fingers tweaking his nipples. Once in a while, they help him shift himself along the length of the man's cock. As time passes and Remy moves faster, those same hands drop to his lap and curl around Remy's erection. He sighs and moans, his body responding to the new stimulus. The position is difficult, but he manages.
Behind him, his lover is whispering to him. He no longer hears the music that has been playing since they arrived at the club. He no longer hears the crowd, though he vaguely feels their growing desire. It clogs the air, clouds it like a thick and heavy fog. All he can hear is his lover's voice, whispering dirty things to him. Telling him his ass is so tight. Telling him that he likes the way Remy's muscles clench around him. Telling him that he loves fucking his ass.
"When you finally come, pet, I want you to shout my name to them. Tell them who owns you." The order is punctuated by the sharp sting of teeth against his throat. The action drives Remy into a faster pace. Beneath him, his lover's hips are beginning to rise. They thrust and slap against his ass, forcing his cock further into Remy's ass.
The tension spirals upward from his groin, filling him as he moves tirelessly against the other man's body. He needs completion, needs it so badly. But he can't have it until he's told its allowed. And he knows that his lover wants everyone to see what it is he sees each time he and Remy have sex. Each time they battle one another for dominance and control.
He feels as if he's about to shatter when he finally hears the words he's been waiting for. "Come for me, pet. Come for all of us."
It happens in a blur. Their bodies are still moving, his lover's hips slapping his ass, when he finally feels himself let go. His back arches while the man's hand squeezes his cock sharply. The tension snaps and his orgasm rolls over him. What falls from his lips is a litany of dirty French, his voice loud over the noise of the crowd. The last thing that comes out of his mouth is a single name, the name of his lover, his companion, his possessor, his possession. "Mon Dieu! Daken!"
And then he's being held against Dak's chest, the man's lips pressing kisses to his face and throat. Though Remy is spent, he finds himself caught up in the orgy that is taking place around them. He isn't sure if its a simple reaction to their joining or if it is because of his partner's pheromones. He doesn't care. Only one thing matters to him. He shakes his head, a soft chuckle rumbling up his throat. "What's so funny, pet?" Dak asks, his voice a contented purr this time.
Remy turns to look at him. There is a slight frown on his face. "Damn you, you right."
A raven brow lifts in response. "I'm right? What am I right about?"
"You right `bout all dis," Remy says as he motions toward the crowd. "Dere somet'ing about performin' for an audience dat make de sex so much better."
"I told you. Next time I tell you something, maybe you'll listen to me. Maybe we'll be able to avoid all this." Daken motions toward the copulating crowd. Remy watches them a moment, then shakes his head.
"You wanna avoid dis again?"
"You don't?" Daken's brow goes up a second time. Remy just smirks at him. Dak's smile is predatory. "I'll remember that. Of course, next time, you might not like what happens."
Remy chuckles at that.
"Okay. Maybe you will." Daken drags his face toward him again. The feel of his lips against Remy's is so heady that everything else just fades away. Yes. He can definitely do this again.
Universe: Marvel: X-Men
Pairing: Remy LeBeau/Daken
Rating: mature. M/M sex (slash!), some language
Word Count: 3,998
Disclaimer: i do not own any of the Marvel-ous men contained within this fic. they are all owned by Marvel and whoever the hell else owns them. i'm not making any money off this. just writing for shits and giggles. pleas don't sue me.
Summary: it doesn't take much for Remy to earn a little bit of punishment from his lover.
Author's Note: written for dazzledfirestar based on the kinks and pairings listed on her LiveJournal for the Five Kinks Meme. i think this kind of got away from me. i really hope this fits with your kinks and all. enjoy.
He kneels on the floor and waits patiently. It doesn't matter that he's been teetering on the razor's edge all day. It doesn't matter that his cock aches so fiercely that one accidental whisper of air across it will see him exploding in orgasm. It doesn't matter that he cannot, for the life of him, recall what he's done to warrant such treatment. None of that matters in the face of his discipline. Of the punishment that his lover has deemed he needs. All that matters is that he sits, remains silent, and waits.
This has happened before. Little infractions that earned him similar treatments. But never had he been forced to wait so long. He has been told that failure to follow the instructions laid down for him will result in something worse. Something that is perhaps humiliating. Something that may bring him no small measure of pain.
He is not afraid of pain. He's suffered through his fair share over the years. But his lover is ingenious with such things and there is always the fear, albeit a small one, that things may go too far. Then again, when one dares to play with a wild animal, one should expect to get hurt.
His eyes are closed, though not because of any order given to him. They are closed because it helps ease the need if he doesn't have to look around at all the expectant faces. They are both sexual creatures. It is a part of their nature. But while he has always been more conscious of where he engages in his affairs, his lover has no such set limits. His lover doesn't care if they are at home in the privacy of their own room or in the backseat of a friend's car as it speeds down the highway. Whatever his lover wants, his lover usually gets. This is the first time, however, that they have come to such a place with the intention of finding release and gratification.
Tonight, they will have sex before a large crowd of people.
He can feel them gathered around the stage, the hum of their emotions battering against him. It is almost as if they are trying to make him fail, as if they want to see what will happen if he fails to do as he's been told. But he and his partner have played this game before. And his control is better than that.
Pushing the noise and feel of the eager crowd away from him, his mind rolls back to just last week. That night had been his night to control and dominate. His night to order his lover about. They had gone out to some bar, had drinks. Watched frightened men in sloppy shirts and rumpled suits drink themselves until they were blind drunk. Watched those same men seek out a partner for the night, their actions furtive. Full of guilt and self-loathing. The thick ribbon of need that had unwound from those men had left him hungry and unwilling to wait. It was the emotions coming from those other men that had prompted him to grab his lover by the arm and drag him out into the filthy alley behind the bar.
No words had needed to be spoken. They'd fallen upon one another, their hands tugging at offending garments while their desire wrapped them in its embrace. They'd only bared the skin that was absolutely necessary as their mouths had battled for dominance. Hands, strong and sure and hot, had crept over skin, tweaking and teasing and mapping. Forcing their passions higher. Making their need for one another stronger.
The other man had grazed his nipples with sharp nails, sending little skirls of pleasurable pain through him. He'd fed his lover a moan when the man's hand had curled around his exposed cock and stroked. That single touch had been the last straw. It had seen him shoving his lover against the bricks so hard that the man had grunted with the action. Everything had happened so swiftly after that. There'd been no time for preparation beyond a pair of rough fingers in his lover's ass to loosen the muscles. Lubrication came in the form of his spit, despite the fact that he knew his lover wouldn't mind if there was extra friction.
They'd fucked fast and hard, his hips thrashing wildly against his lover's body, the man's back pressed hard against the brick wall. The distant sound of cars passing, of the conversation between pedestrians as they walked the sidewalk, served as a soft backdrop to their moans, groans, grunts and the slapping of flesh against flesh. His lover had his strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist while his own fingers curled over the top of a pair of bricks in order to help keep himself stable. The rough surface of the bricks had cut into his palms, left them burning and abraded.
None of that had mattered in the face of their climbing desires. Part of the reason he'd dragged them out into the alley had been because of the thrill that came from knowing that someone out there might hear them. Might catch them. Might stop to watch them. The fact that they could be discovered, that someone might see them doing something considered taboo, had been more than enough to drive common sense from his mind. And in the end, it had been the knowledge that they could be discovered that had thrilled through him and pushed him over the edge. He'd filled his lover's ass, his hips managing a few final thrusts while the other man's hand had reached for his own cock, had stroked fast and furious until he'd come all over both their bellies.
It is like that between them. One night, he is the one who has all of the power and control. The next night, his lover will be the one who directs their coupling. Their passion stems from their loneliness, their need to dominate. To be dominated. There is no real love between them. His love is long gone, out of his reach. He isn't sure that his lover has ever felt such an emotion for anyone other than himself. That doesn't matter. They've replaced emotional love with physical need, used their unique gifts to fan the flames. His charm is a soft and subtle thing, something that his lover barely notices. It is effective in getting the job done, though.
His lover... The pheromones are strong. Impossible to ignore. They can be used against a single person or they can be used upon an entire room. He's seen first hand what can be done with those pheromones. He's felt it. More than once, he's found himself in the midst of an orgy while his lover stands back and watches with a smug, masculine smile upon his face. Men and women alike fall to his lover's gift. And though the other man may occasionally punish him by forcing him to watch as someone else sucks his cock or his balls, he always returns to him. They are now, and will always be, a couple.
A shift in the emotions around him tells him that his lover is near. The crowd is growing hungry, their anticipation battering his already worn senses as his lover uses his gift to drive them into a frenzy of need. All the better to watch the coming show, no doubt. The other man feeds on such events as this. No doubt there will be another orgy before the night is out.
"Look at me, Remy." The low voice is filled with command and, with that one sentence, he has his identity back. Another of the games they play. Pushing aside the notion that they have a name, that they are an individual. Until their name is spoken, they are simply... he and him. Them. They.
His eyes open to find his lover standing over him. All he wears upon his body is skin tight leather. It encases him from his hips to his ankles, clinging to each curve of muscle and every line. It outlines the thick, rigid length of his cock. Emphasizes that he is just as turned on by this as Remy is.
Intense hunger sweeps through Remy's lean body and pools in his groin. His own cock jerks, though no other part of him moves. Blue eyes stare down at him while his lover gives the appearance of mulling over what he plans on doing. As if Remy has any doubt as to which game they are playing tonight. He only wishes that his lover would hurry and say something because his hands ache to trail across the ridged planes of the man's muscles, powerful thighs and glorious cock.
A need that has nothing to do with pheromones burns deep within his soul.
"Show them." That's all his lover needs to say. Remy moves then, rising up on his knees so that his hands can pull at the lacing that holds the leather pants closed. He's done this before, a thousand times, so that he can simply stare up into the other man's face while agile fingers tug the thin cord out of the holes. One hand drops the single lace to the floor while his other begins peeling the leather away from his lover's skin.
His eyes look only at the other man's body as he slowly drags the leather down far enough to expose the length of the man's cock and the rock hard curves of his ass. The sense Remy has of the crowd surges as their need grows and fills the air. They are excited to see the show that is about to take place. He has no doubt that they will be driven to the very precipice before things between himself and his lover are completed. And he knows that this is something the other man will enjoy. Deeply. Even Remy will find a more intense completion because of the emotions that swirl around them. They are as much an aphrodisiac to him as the touch of his lover's hand or the look in his eye.
With the other man's erection exposed, he settles back down and lays his hands against his thighs. And waits. He can see the crowd out of the corner of his eye, can see the lust in their eyes as well as he can feel it on the air. Like him, they are staring at the other man's thick shaft. They, too, are waiting for the man to give his permission to Remy. They want to see the show that they've been promised. He simply wants to lose himself in the feel of his lover's skin, the smell and taste of him, the sensuality of such a very private act made so very public.
One of his lover's hands reaches out and curls around Remy's chin. It is a silent order that he doesn't hesitate to obey. He leans forward, eyes falling shut while his mouth opens in anticipation of taking the man's cock between his lips. He can feel the crowd, can feel their eager hunger clinging to him, stroking across his senses and his body like ghostly fingers. He shudders softly, then the moment is gone as the head of his lover's erection passes his lips.
He takes it in slowly, his tongue licking gently up and down the underside of the shaft. He sucks at it, his actions almost leisurely. He wants to savor this part because he knows that when he's given the order, he will apply himself to giving his lover pleasure. He will lose himself and simply become an instrument of pleasure. This is part of the game they play with one another. His lover knows that he enjoys this part. He knows that his lover allows it to happen for just that reason. He also knows that such pleasure can be taken from him in the blink of an eye. His lover is fickle.
He lets his hands skim up his lover's legs, his long fingers teasing and touching from the man's ankles to his hips. He plies his charm, pressing it into the other man in order to enhance his pleasure. His fingers glide across the slick leather, dip into the opening in his trousers so that he can play with his lover's balls. He feels the shudder that runs up the man's spine and his touch earns him a thrust of his lover's hips. The action buries the man's cock deeper in his throat. Remy smiles and swallows.
A groan rumbles up his lover's throat and the man's hands curl around his head, fingers digging into his hair. That is the signal. Remy pushes the feel of the crowd's hunger away and gives himself over to sucking cock and giving pleasure.
Time falls away. All he knows is the texture of his lover's skin and the growing desire that is building around them. His hands move so that he can settle them on the other man's hips. It is a way to steady himself, a way to feel the warmth of the man's skin against his own.
The hunger beats at him and, slowly, the sounds of other couples engaging in pleasurable acts filters into his brain. Soft moans. Deep groans. Wet sounds. Skin slapping skin. It pushes and drives him, makes his actions faster. Makes his cock twitch and jump with need.
It all ends suddenly. His only warning is a soft growl. Then the hands in his hair are roughly jerking him back. Remy finds himself stumbling to catch his balance, something that almost never happens. He is so caught up in his partner, though, that he can't help himself. With a look from the other man, he settles back onto his knees and waits while his lover walks away. He is going to bring something out for the rest of the show. Remy allows his gaze to move over the crowd. The crowd is undulating and writhing, hands and mouths seeking out body parts. It doesn't seem to matter if those parts belong to the body they're with or the body that's beside them. The room is already erupting into an orgy.
His lover returns, carrying with him a heavy chair. It is well cushioned and has arms over which he can hook his legs. Obviously his lover plans on putting him fully on display. He remains where he's kneeling, awaiting word from the other man before he moves.
The chair is set down beside him with a resounding thump. He watches his lover remove a small tube from the seat of the chair before sitting down. He hands the tube to Remy, his fingers lingering as their hands touch. That brief contact sends shivers up and down his spine. There's heat in the man's fingers, and promise. Remy takes the tube wordlessly. His lover looks up at him. "Make yourself ready."
Remy nods wordlessly, unscrews the top from the tube and squeezes a goodly amount of the lube onto his fingers. He has been waiting for this moment, waiting naked in the middle of the stage with the knowledge running through his head that he would be the main attraction. He's glad that such an event has not seen his lover forgetting the lubricant. This is something they do every time. That they have to do every time. While his lover can take rough or impulsive sex without much preparation, he cannot. He doesn't have the healing factor the other man has. Care must be taken lest he finds himself injured.
Laying the tube down, he lifts his foot and rests it on the arm of the chair. His eyes are not on the crowd as he reaches back to press his fingers into his ass. He is watching his lover, waiting for the approval. The tension snaps to life within him the moment his questing digits breach that hidden ring of muscle. A soft hiss escapes his throat, which earns him a chuckle from the other man. His lover knows exactly what this does to him. That's why he makes Remy do it.
He spends several minutes preparing himself. It is a repetitive task. Apply lube to his fingers, press his fingers into his ass, fuck his ass and spread his fingers to loosen the muscles. The entire time he does this, his lover watches him. As if to ensure that he does what he's been told to do. As if to ensure that he will always follow orders. After a time, the man's hand lifts to catch Remy's arm. "Enough. Turn and face the audience. Let them see how beautiful you are."
Remy turns and faces the audience as he's been ordered. He feels more than sees the other man stand, then shivers when one of his rough hands trails softly down his arm to his hip. It travels inward and briefly grazes his cock. That touch sees him hissing, clenching his teeth, as his body reacts and shudders. His erection twitches, as if begging for more. Then that same hand is fisted in his hair, tugging him down so that his lover can take his mouth in a fiery, passionate, possessive kiss.
This is what Remy wants. This is what thrills him. The way control switches from one of them to the other. Possession is subjective. Which ever of them is in control is the one who is in possession of the other. It is this that keeps him at his lover's side. He could find better with someone else. More. But he doesn't want better or more. He wants this. The constant struggle for dominance. The thrilling sexual encounters. The never knowing if the ground beneath their feet will remain stable. He wants all of this and more. Everything his lover has to offer him.
Remy falls into the kiss, his hands creeping up to settle at the man's hips. Their bodies are pressed together all hard muscle and hard cocks rubbing back and forth against each other. The man's tongue shoves into his mouth, dances across his own as it explores and probes. Remy's hands find his lover's ass, curl over the curves and press him closer. And just like that, the kiss is over and the other man is breaking away from him.
His lover retakes the chair and once more hands him the lube. "Finish it, pet."
Remy squeezes out more of the lube, this time into his palm, and leans down to wrap his hand around his lover's cock. His grip is light, his up and down motion slow and steady even as his twists his fist around the diameter to spread the lube around it. He works the lube along the length of the thick erection, his eyes watching the man's face. There is heat in those blue eyes, along with smugness and masculine pride. A nod of his lover's head sees him lifting up and straightening. "Show them who owns you."
His hands are there to help Remy down into his lap. This is something they've done before, so it is a simple matter for Remy to position himself properly while the other man takes hold of his cock with one hand and Remy's hip with his other hand. Together, they work him down so that his lover's cock presses into his ass while he lowers himself until he's sitting in the other man's lap.
Remy shifts his legs, propping them over the arms so that he can use them as leverage. His hands settle behind his legs and he begins to work himself up and down. The slick feel of the shaft in his ass sees his eyes falling closed. His head tips back as gasping breaths burst from his throat. Tension spirals through him, leaving him trembling with need. He wants to come, wants to lose himself. But he first needs permission. Another game, another opportunity to earn punishment.
His lover's hands stroke up and down his chest, fingers tweaking his nipples. Once in a while, they help him shift himself along the length of the man's cock. As time passes and Remy moves faster, those same hands drop to his lap and curl around Remy's erection. He sighs and moans, his body responding to the new stimulus. The position is difficult, but he manages.
Behind him, his lover is whispering to him. He no longer hears the music that has been playing since they arrived at the club. He no longer hears the crowd, though he vaguely feels their growing desire. It clogs the air, clouds it like a thick and heavy fog. All he can hear is his lover's voice, whispering dirty things to him. Telling him his ass is so tight. Telling him that he likes the way Remy's muscles clench around him. Telling him that he loves fucking his ass.
"When you finally come, pet, I want you to shout my name to them. Tell them who owns you." The order is punctuated by the sharp sting of teeth against his throat. The action drives Remy into a faster pace. Beneath him, his lover's hips are beginning to rise. They thrust and slap against his ass, forcing his cock further into Remy's ass.
The tension spirals upward from his groin, filling him as he moves tirelessly against the other man's body. He needs completion, needs it so badly. But he can't have it until he's told its allowed. And he knows that his lover wants everyone to see what it is he sees each time he and Remy have sex. Each time they battle one another for dominance and control.
He feels as if he's about to shatter when he finally hears the words he's been waiting for. "Come for me, pet. Come for all of us."
It happens in a blur. Their bodies are still moving, his lover's hips slapping his ass, when he finally feels himself let go. His back arches while the man's hand squeezes his cock sharply. The tension snaps and his orgasm rolls over him. What falls from his lips is a litany of dirty French, his voice loud over the noise of the crowd. The last thing that comes out of his mouth is a single name, the name of his lover, his companion, his possessor, his possession. "Mon Dieu! Daken!"
And then he's being held against Dak's chest, the man's lips pressing kisses to his face and throat. Though Remy is spent, he finds himself caught up in the orgy that is taking place around them. He isn't sure if its a simple reaction to their joining or if it is because of his partner's pheromones. He doesn't care. Only one thing matters to him. He shakes his head, a soft chuckle rumbling up his throat. "What's so funny, pet?" Dak asks, his voice a contented purr this time.
Remy turns to look at him. There is a slight frown on his face. "Damn you, you right."
A raven brow lifts in response. "I'm right? What am I right about?"
"You right `bout all dis," Remy says as he motions toward the crowd. "Dere somet'ing about performin' for an audience dat make de sex so much better."
"I told you. Next time I tell you something, maybe you'll listen to me. Maybe we'll be able to avoid all this." Daken motions toward the copulating crowd. Remy watches them a moment, then shakes his head.
"You wanna avoid dis again?"
"You don't?" Daken's brow goes up a second time. Remy just smirks at him. Dak's smile is predatory. "I'll remember that. Of course, next time, you might not like what happens."
Remy chuckles at that.
"Okay. Maybe you will." Daken drags his face toward him again. The feel of his lips against Remy's is so heady that everything else just fades away. Yes. He can definitely do this again.