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bakerstreet2013-06-25 11:42 am
sockle) wrote in bakerstreet2013-06-25 11:42 am
The Star Trek Smut Meme
eau d'pon farr, buy it now
Exposed to a Pon Farr inducing agent (either chemically created or a natural toxin) you are now forced to undergo a biological shift. You feel more aggressive, sexually unsatisfied and more than eager to take a mate. If you do not relieve the neurochemical imbalance with sex, meditation or engaging in a physical fight, you will go insane and die within eight days.
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no subject
the bite is the only thing he can give in his current position, pinned so completely by the other that it's a wonder he can even move his head at all. at least - well, until the little shit catches him by the jaw once he's gotten both arms pinned in one hand, and bones' eyes narrow to the point that his eyes are mere dark slits behind the fringe of his lashes.
that trickle of blood catches his attention in all the ways it shouldn't, and fuck, he wants to lick it away. taste more of it on the back of his tongue and suck more from the wound, just to have the feeling that he had done it, and spock hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it. that control had been taken away for a very small second, and at least he can say he's accomplished something.
he gives a quirk of a brow, close to chuckling. ] Call 'em like I see 'em, darlin'.
[ honestly, at this point every word that comes out of his mouth is just for posterity. an attempt to get under his skin like nothing else can, digging words and the cutting growl of his voice that bears no weight at all once those hips are grinding against his own in that unforgiving pace again. and, again, bones finds himself completely and utterly breathless, teeth once more digging into his bottom lip hard enough to bring a fresh trickle of blood that he swallows just as easily as he does the gulps of air that do nothing at all.
that
oh
you absolute fucking asshole
he's so close, so fucking close to losing himself all over again that it's all that's on his mind. nothing else matters save for chasing down those sparks of pleasure flickering all along the length of his spine, making him flush hot and needful beneath every thrust, that growl deepening and making him sound down near fucking feral as it slides from the back of his throat.
there, fuck, rightthererightthere -
and then spock stops, and bones' eyes shoot open, just long enough to catch the infuriating quirk of that brow and oh, he's never felt so close to wanting to kill someone in his life. he wants to bite, wants to bite hard, and the sound that rips from his chest is not at all docile. ]
No? Find a way t'shut me up, then. M'sure y'can think a' one ..
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He's quiet for a moment for the retort, but not idle. His hips shift minutely, nudging into the other man without successive rhythm to concentrate on, holding him just on the precipice as he considers.
Then, so slowly so as not to prematurely tip the other man over the edge, Spock slides himself free of the doctor.
Not a word is said as he sinks his weight into his arms, onto the wrists he's pinning and McCoy's throat. Gracefully, he's sliding free of the man's thighs and up his chest, sitting bare in the center of the older man's chest. He lets his throat go then, sliding his hand up into the human's dark hair in a gesture that's quiet, almost tender, except not a second later, Spock's gripping the hair harshly by the root.
He turns the man's wrists loose, but only to reach behind him and grip the other man tightly at the base of his cock. Too tight too thrust... too tight to come.
With a push from the toes of his boots, he presses knees into Bones' upper arms and slides his thighs perfectly to encompass the doctor's head. It's very clear what the intention is, but then, the coup de grace, yanking the man by the hair into the heat of his slick groin.
If you can't say anything nice, Doctor... ]
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the small, almost imperceptible shift of those hips against his own is one that has him almost keening, a small note stuck on the back of his tongue that he cannot let free. it's too vulnerable, too wanting when all he wants is to fight the other at every damn turn, just to get a reaction out of him. just to make him realize that it isn't so easy to win all the time.
even if he does, the pointy-eared bastard.
but then spock is sliding himself free, and bones at least has enough coherency about him to be momentarily confused. the fuck you think you're goin' you -
except he doesn't have to wonder very long.
the pressure against his throat has him swallowing harshly, lips parted as he stares up at the other practically crawling up his body to situate himself on his chest. the fingers in his hair, yanking his head back get a sort of defiant look in dark eyes that is nothing more but a mere shine in the muted lighting. and finally having limited motion of his arms, his fingers curl around the thighs encompassing his head, nails digging in sharply.
there is more, so much more than he wants to touch, to render so utterly fucked, but this isn't about him. not in the slightest.
he tries to buck upward into the hand around his cock, but it's true - too tight to thrust, too tight to come. motherfucker.
bones growls again, and it seems it's the only thing he's capable of conveying when that hand yanks at his hair again, buries his face between parted thighs and he finds the very tip of his tongue tracing a line along the inside of one until he gets to the base of his cock, slick and hard and hot.
he licks a solid line from base to tip, groaning at the taste of him before taking him in, sucking him down almost greedily. tongue flat against the shaft, he breathes out sharply through his nose, chancing a glance upward from beneath dark brows.
do it. ]
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Oh.
Spock's lips part with his surprise and the flush of arousal, and then McCoy is sucking him down, and he can't help a quiver at the sight of it, as the heat of the human's mouth rivals the heat of his own body. Oh.
His attention is rapt on the other, upswept brows furrowing with what is just an instinctual grasp for control at this point. The look, the message is very clear; he understands. And he thrusts into that mouth, sliding back on the older man's chest to provide a better angle, rocking his hips slowly. A low, growling groan finally allows itself to be known. His fingers loosen, scrape at the hair at the nape of McCoy's neck. Yes... ]
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it would be a fruitless effort, at this point, to fight anything where the other is concerned.
and bones watches him.
watches those lips part, that flush across his cheeks darken into something more of a jade hue, so fucking gorgeous that he wants to keep him like this. indefinitely ( a thought which he will address properly when he can actually do something as ridiculous as think. ) his fingers tighten, tongue flattening further as spock begins to push into his mouth, not allowing his eyes to flutter closed as they would like, just to savor the pleasure of it even more deeply.
if he's going to give himself over to this, let the other fuck his mouth, he's going to see it.
he groans around the vulcan's length, an absolutely obscene sound fit to the tune of the growl sifting up from spock's throat and he widens his jaw to take him in, nothing but a pliant mouth and a hot, slick tongue over hardened flesh. ]
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His hand tightens in the other's hair, holding him in place as Spock fucks his mouth a bit more roughly, moans soft and fracturing, into a snarl through gritted teeth. Every thrum from the man beneath him, the mouth around his cock, is a shudder up his spine. His hand loosens on the erection under his palms, slides without precision along the length, little more than playing like a cat might knead someone stroking it in all the right ways with listless bliss. This man is his, he thinks without recognizing it, and in a single night he'll try to have him every way he can. Mate. Chemical bonding, elastic collision -- Spock can feel him as much as he feels him, and for once the intimacy does not frighten him.
He's going to wreck this man, if he can stop himself from falling apart first. ]
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he doesn't fight the hold. doesn't even think about pulling away from the fingers in his hair as they hold him where the vulcan wants him. the right angle for the right thrust, that which sends his cock deep into the back of his throat and he sucks at every small pause. eyes fluttering closed for the smallest moment, lashes brushing over his cheeks as yet another low, full moan betrays him.
who would have known, in a million years, that he would like being so utterly used like this?
the fingers around his cock loosen, begin stroking him in a manner that allows for more frustration than relief, and he tries to roll his hips upward into the tantalizing pressure as he very briefly catches a glimpse of what's flickering through the other's mind.
mate.
fuck.
bones swallows him down further, tongue curling around the base of his length in a way that suggests he's done this before - though he'll never say if he has - and his fingers tighten in their hold of spock's thighs, infinitesimally, the barest hint of nails digging in just enough to threaten to break skin.
wreck me if you can, but not if i fuckin' wreck you first. ]
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He'd noticed how being where Bones was had been a strangely powerful position earlier, but he doesn't mind. He doesn't mind much of anything right now... except maybe that the man's apparent experience means someone else has been there and it makes him feel stupidly possessive, snarling so low in the back of his throat it almost isn't felt. The way his hips pick up a little certainly can be, though.
Luckily, it's only a few of those terribly insensitive thrusts ( almost like he's trying to get the man to gag on him just to be sure he's felt, that he's leaving some other mark ) before Spock is trying to push Bones' head off, back into the sheets. He arches into those nails, heedless of how they'll score him as he begins to slide back down the human's body, the weight of him almost negligible next to the heat of him. ]
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and if anything is going to destroy spock, it's going to be him.
and it's funny, really, to think that the thought of someone else being where the vulcan is now would incite a sort of possessive sort of jealousy in him. as he's thought, he'll never confirm or deny it, because it's no one's business but his own, but the idea of the other being possessive over him is .. oddly endearing. as though they've formed a tentative bond during all of this, and though he knows that pon farr is about the forging of a bond, one that isn't easily broken, it still .. humbles him in some way to be a part of that thought.
those powerful, deep thrusts are taken just as easily as the ones before it have been, pliantly and almost hungrily as his mouth drops open further, every bit conveying use me in not so many words. and when spock pulls back, there's a small, muffled sound of loss that filters up from the back of the doctor's throat, dark eyes hooded and hazy as he takes in the other's form sliding back down his body.
he's burning. the need to touch, taste, take simmering just beneath the surface of his skin and he's reaching for him before he can even realize just what the fuck he's doing.
the hell have you done to me? ]
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He rocks against the other, keenly aware of where their skin is sliding, frotting until the job is done. Then he's leaning back, reaching to turn the man over onto his stomach; while part of him will surely revolt at the mess to find there, curiosity and possessive pride will win it out this time. ]
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it's a single word, a one-track thought that slithers through his mind like so much oil over water, and he gives himself up to that kiss like he has nothing else just yet. if spock can taste himself on his tongue, mingled with the small traces of blood left behind he'll be satisfied, because nothing has ever been so addictive as this right here.
he hears those boots drop to the floor as the other finally deigns to take them off, and there's a small, rough laugh against his mouth as his tongue slides past parted lips and curls behind his teeth. tasting, just as much as he had been.
oddly enough, the fact that he's finding himself being rolled onto his stomach once more doesn't really surprise him. he goes with the pull, the push, bending at the knees and supporting himself on shaking arms, forehead briefly resting against his forearms as it had previously. not too long ago.
bones takes a breath, sharp and shuddering as he chances a look behind him, attempting to gauge the other's expression. knows that he's looking at the damage done to his back, and he can't help but to ask - ] How much y'fucked me up already, huh?
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Spock leans over the other, wrapping an arm around one of the other man's thighs to spread him open a bit wider. The other hand experimentally runs its hand down the human's bloody spine, collecting the red rivulets but far more interested in the response it provokes. ]
I am a scientist, not a doctor.
[ A tiny twitch of brow, maybe. His tongue tastes the back of an ear, lips slide down to suck the sweat of the lowest vertebrae of the cervical spine. Lower, there's blood, and while he doesn't hesitate, Spock doesn't linger long, following the vertebral column. At the curve of McCoy's spine, he does dip his tongue into the skin, tasting the tang and the salt of the blood that is there largely because it feels like he should, should know every part he can readily reach of the other man. Both hands on the backs of thighs now, spreading them just that much farther apart before sliding up to palm either side of that upturned ass, kneading the flesh between his fingers. Thumbs stroke teasingly at the cleft, and the Vulcan is about as interested to see the other man's expression now as McCoy was to see his for all the blood. ]
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watching him closely for any sort of reaction that he might give as he scans the expanse of his back. it doesn't hurt, at least not yet, so he can't think that it's too bad - but he keeps a steady gaze trained on the vulcan as he makes his assessments. quiet, but not necessarily patient.
bones shivers when his thighs are eased further apart, and again when those fingers trace over the line of his spine, through blood and broken skin and fuck, it shouldn't feel as good as it does to have those sharp little stings of pain skittering along raw nerves. he licks dry lips and it's a vain attempt - he knows that, but it doesn't keep him from trying, either way.
he rolls his eyes when those words come out of the other's mouth. ] .. Seriously? Jesus, everybody's a fuckin' comedian around here ..
[ his mouth shuts, though, when he feels that tongue slide over the shell of his ear. over the back of his neck and on down, entire body shifting minutely as though to follow its trail down broken skin, collecting droplets of blood and again, fuck, he's never had any of this. never thought to want any of it, but now that he has it .. it's dangerously addictive. dangerously.
he sinks down a bit lower, almost resting his chest against the mattress at the other spreads him further, feeling so deeply exposed that there are no proper words for it. a soft moan for the fingers that knead at him, a second that comes a bit louder, unbidden. if spock had wanted to see his reaction, this is it -
head bowed, forehead resting against his forearms as he struggles to control his breathing, a low, deep-seated tremor working its way all throughout and leaving him wanting so much more. and what he's thinking, but could come nowhere near saying:
please. ]
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Spock bows his head as his palms and thumbs spread the doctor that much further, cracking him open so that the Vulcan can insert the heat of his tongue. He starts at the perineum and gives a long, almost luxurious sweep up, exploring that last intimate inch of his mate. The tip of his tongue swirls at the tight ring of resistance there, where countless thrusts from earlier had undoubtedly left it loose but all the more sensitive to more attentive probing. The teeth of his lower jaw sink into the soft skin of that taint, grinding against the bundle of nerves there and allowing him some suction before he begins to grind the flat of his tongue against the hole in earnest.
He slides onto his belly behind the other man, as if settling in, and wraps his arms around either thigh to hold McCoy open, to simply have something of him to hold onto. Please, he'd heard, and now he listens and feels, admittedly with an eager ear, to just how much this might please the other. It's not an act he'd have considered doing, usually, not after the fact, but there is a certain satisfaction to be had tasting himself lingering within the other; a sick thrill, perhaps, but it's there. And overpowering that, well, there's the taste of the other man, and that is addicting. A low rumble in the back of his throat and the puff of breath from his nose up Bones' spine conveys as much. ]
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spock spreads him open, and he feels the tremors begin in his thighs, a scant bit of anticipation bleeding through despite his efforts to keep himself still. to keep from giving too much away despite that silent whisper of please that he more than knows the vulcan had picked up on. he would have been surprised if he hadn't, honestly, given that he's been able to read him like an open fucking book since they'd started all of this. he doesn't realize he's holding his breath as the other touches him until his lungs ache for air, and he lets it out in one long whoosh, an almost desperate moan as that tongue slides over his skin. this -
this
is so fucking new to him that he doesn't exactly know how to react to it. except that he finds, beyond a shadow of a doubt that that vulcan tongue can only be described as sinful as it probes at him. as it sends shocks of pleasure up from the base of his spine. bones tries to keep from squirming, doesn't quite manage it - and ends up pushing back into that light pressure, hands fisting in the sheets beneath him as he buries his face further against his arms.
he gasps, hearing that rumble, and bites his lip to keep from falling apart. there's no telling how well it's going to actually work, but .. fuck, he wants more of it. ]
Jesus .. fucking christ, Spock -
[ well, if that isn't something. he rarely ever says your name, much less when it's wrapped in a moan so filthy that he's almost positive he'll never be clean again.
oops .. he doesn't care. ]
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It makes him shove his head forward, breaching the other man with a roll of his tongue, again and again, pushing in and beginning to lap its way to the man's core. He's putting his back into it. If he had thoughts of withholding anything before, they're gone now. He works his tongue in, twists it and bites at the ring of muscle like he plans to work his way inside, beneath the human's skin with his mouth alone. And he does. Every stroke now, every soft snarl, carries the same echoing message: mine, you're mine, this is mine, you belong to me, say it again, say my name.
One hand loosens and fits itself beneath McCoy, where it wraps its long fingers around the other man's cock and begins to pump it in time to the ministrations of his tongue. His mouth is well buried in the other now; if McCoy looked back he'd only see the line of the Vulcan's nose and the dark fringe of his eyelashes lowered in concentration beneath his unkempt bangs, the upturned edges of his eyebrows and ears very well helping him to suit the part of sin in this moment.
He realizes he could make the older man come just like this, around his tongue and into his hand, while he pulls back to a more shallow vantage point and nibbles at that stretched hole, swirls his tongue just within the flexing ring. Then Spock would climb up and fuck his over-sensitive body until he sated himself. Yes... yes, that is a fine plan indeed, he thinks... unless McCoy begs to come wrapped around his cock. He's not sure he could deny his mate the favor of it, not now. ]
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every breach of that ring of muscle, every inward thrust of that tongue has broken, almost-desperate sounds slipping from the back of bones' throat, mouth falling open in a wordless plea that doesn't even begin to convey how much he wants it. like a slut begging to be filled, to be taken advantage of in every sense of the word, to be used and broken and put back together again, only to be taken apart by the heat of a wicked tongue and long, slender fingers.
a part of him wishes he could see him. watch him push into him with that tongue, lids lowered and hair a beautiful mess. to see how that mouth works at him, teeth scraping over hyper-sensitive flesh as he works him open even further. it brings a high-pitched keen, a curse so obscene that it surfaces as barely more than a growl as his hips roll, rocking back against the pressure of that mouth, teeth now digging into the stretch of skin that spans from the base of his thumb to his wrist. tasting the promise of broken skin and whining. ]
Spock - fuck, please .. I -
[ i want your cock inside me. i want you to fuck me raw, make me say your fuckin' name until i can't say anythin' else.
there's a part of him that thinks it's a futile thought. that the other will simply use him as he pleases and that part of him .. it shudders at the thought. shudders in the deepest, sinful way possible. and there's another that wants him to concede, to push into him again and make him come just by fucking him into the goddamn mattress -
but he's so mindless from it all at this point that he doesn't care, either way. he just wants to come. ]
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He hears the request, in the instability of Bones' limbs, in his nerve endings, the way he pushes himself mindlessly back into everything Spock is giving him. I want to hear it, is what his mouth returns, nipping torturously at the other's perineum before laving his way back up and into that clenching entrance.
This time, a finger from his free hand slips in before his tongue, pushing into the other with precision as his teeth and tongue continue working the rim . That finger finds the distinct knot of the doctor's prostate without even trying and begins to mercilessly rub at him, as if it's something desperately in need of a good scratch. Temporarily unwrapping his hand from the other's cock Spock sits up and half pulls the older man into his lap with his face still buried, effectively removing the leverage Bones may have had in his legs and forcing the man's weight into his arms ( and probably sending blood rushing toward his head ). After the adjustment, he's right back to working his cock alongside every other assault. He's put Bones on a timer, and he's confident that soon enough, his time will run out.
Ask me, he curls his sharp tongue into the other man, beg me to give you release on your terms, and I'll consider it. ]
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but see, here's the thing. he'd let it happen again and again if it meant that he could keep doing this.
spock nuzzles him, and he groans, raw and open and rough, throat already feeling as though it's been rubbed down with sandpaper. just short of bleeding, tender and it should hurt, he thinks, but it doesn't. it doesn't hold a candle to the pleasure sparking through him with every flick of that tongue, every press of those lips and teeth. it's so good that there isn't any other word that he can think to give it, brain already having shorted out and left him a mindless, shivering mess of open nerves and want.
again, he tries to breathe. gasps and ends up choking on a moan as he feels that finger press into him, teeth clicking as he snaps his mouth shut against a breathlessly needy sound. fuckin' fucker, is an idle thought that slips through the frayed remains of his mind, a scant bit of coherency sticking around just long enough to have him cursing the other man's existence. just for driving him fucking crazy in the simplest of ways. and -
fuck.
every bit of his weight is pushed onto his arms, shaking as they already are as that finger rubs against his prostate, hard and unyielding and he should be embarrassed by the noises that filter up from the back of his throat, the bottom of his chest, both growling and keening at the very same time. those words flicker through him, skip over every inch of him like a smooth rock over the water's surface, and bones
breaks.
he licks his lips, tasting skin and salt and blood, struggling to find a breath for what will, inevitably, be the filthiest thing to have ever come out of his mouth.
oddly enough, the complete lack of embarrassment as the words practically fall out of his mouth should be a testament to just how .. sincere they are. ]
.. Please. [ a breath of a pause, small and gasping. ] Fuck, please, let me come. M'sofuckin'close, wanna feel you inside me .. more'n that fuckin' tongue -
[ he breaks off, sucking in another breath and very nearly choking on it, gritting his teeth around a whine that is none too dignified. ]
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He raises his head and lowers McCoy further back into his lap, leveling the man out at least somewhat again. McCoy will certainly feel the slickness and the heat of Spock's cock against his inner thigh.
But then, the hand on the doctor's cock is gone, instead laying one rough swat across the upturned before digging harshly into his hip. It holds McCoy still while the Vulcan leans over and purrs: ]
No.
[ No sooner has he said it is he thrusting his two fingers into Bones and fucking him mercilessly, grinding against his prostate with every sweep. He'll be damned surprised if Bones lasts more than a few seconds before he explodes.
Because while there is certainly satisfaction to be gained from having a body milk you with the contractions of its orgasm, there's next to nothing more powerful than having someone grovel before you and denying them anyway. He owns this man, fully. He can withhold what McCoy wants and force him to have one of the best orgasms of his life anyway.
He doesn't just want to break the man, he wants the pieces, the shrapnel too, wants to burn it up and leave next to nothing for the wind to take. Once he feels Bones cumming with no touch on his cock, just two fingers pounding into him as a paltry substitute to what he could have been given, once Spock feels him shuddering and beginning to come down from the high of release... Then, then is the time Spock will slide his cock home, pushing the human spent into the mattress and fucking his prone body until Bones' nerves scream white-hot intensity, far beyond overloaded and unable to do anything about it. Even if his body's instinct tries to crawl the doctor away, Spock will pull him right back onto his cock. He's not going anywhere until the Vulcan is finished.
There isn't going to be anything left but a body for Spock to cum inside for a good while. ]
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that praise, while it isn't so much verbal on his part as physical - the arch of his spine, the buck of his hips against the intrusion of that tongue, that devious finger - but he knows it must come off as such, just for the simple fact that he can't think to put his praise into words.
fuck, pleaseplease, come on -
he gives a high, breathless noise when that hand falls away from his cock, when the delicious pressure is gone and instead he's rewarded with a swat to heated skin .. he can't help but to attempt to toss a look back over his shoulder, to catch dark eyes and ask why -
oh.
fingers press into his body and he falters, mouth falling open in a rasp of a moan that doesn't bear much with it at all, just the breathless gasp of a man that has wholly and completely given himself up to this level of torture. this level of commitment, just for the fact that he knows the other can't be willing to stop now.
eventually.
he will get what he wants.
even if spock makes him scream for it first.
those fingers inside him, the pressure of the other man's body at his back, bearing every bit of his weight against him makes it seem like it's only seconds before he breaks completely. when his entire body goes rigid, when his heart stops beating for a few small seconds as his release builds up at the base of his spine - bones' mouth falls open, teeth digging into his forearm once more as his orgasm shakes him right down to the very core of his being. hot, sinful, yours, the only words he can think in the back of his mind that bear any weight at all.
and it isn't until he shakes with his own release that spock finally - motherfucking finally - pushes into him, body still spasming with the force of it. that concession, yes, fucking yes, please is anything and everything that bones could possibly think to give in this instance. all he has to offer is his body, his physical form to his mate, and he gives it willingly. again and again. he is beyond thinking of holding anything back.
and when the other reaches his own release, he thinks it might be over. that he might find some solace in the silence of the aftermath. but - ohjesusfuck - there's a small moment in which the vulcan takes a breath, shaking down to the bones as he is, pauses just long enough to collect himself -
christ
he resumes his stride, a slow inward thrust of his hips against the spot that has bones shattering beneath him, body over-sensitive and over-worked, and yet .. he still has it in him to give it all over again, anything the other wants from him.
y'got me. ]
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Maybe Bones finds his fourth orgasm, Spock can no longer tell because the man has been reduced to something so beautifully pliant beneath him, just taking and taking him and it is absolutely perfect in this moment. Either the other man's mind has become a complete blank or they have melded into one being without the need for touching psi-points; at this point, Spock's own mind is fully committed to the churn of his hips and his building release. His third orgasm isn't as hard as his last, but it's more overwhelming, full-bodied, oh, it feels like he's being bled dry but he likes it, welcomes it.
Afterwards, he drapes the sharp heat of his body over the one beneath him, cauterizing ( not literally ) the wounds there and trying to cover the doctor as much as he can with himself. He doesn't know how long it took him to get here, or how long he is just laying there on top of Bones, breathing into his neck and shoulder, but he is utterly spent. McCoy will come to with Spock's cock still buried, if softening, inside of him, with the Vulcan's weight keeping him pinned to the mattress like a long, lean bag full of burning coals, and be reminded exactly who he belongs to. Spock is content to languish for a while. He's never felt so complete, ever. Hell, he didn't even know anything was missing from him.
For once he is incapable of over-thinking and enjoys the moment, positioned in this half possessive, half protective drape over his mate. For a biological imperative he found so shameful, for him this is probably the best sex he's ever had. Eventually his cock will retract its way back inside of its sheath, but unless McCoy moves him, Spock is just going to stay right here. If he's allowed, it's likely he'll even doze, face tucked into the crook of the older man's neck. ]
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fuck.
fuck.
he isn't braced for the impact of the other's second orgasm, much less his third.
he allows his body to be used. what the fuck else is he there for? his brain supplies, much beyond his consent as the other rides him to climax for a third time, and for the love of absolute fuck, he can't keep himself from giving over to it.
he's only human, of course. and having the other use him as thoroughly as he can brings him to yet another release, though it isn't much more than the full-bodied shudder that he gives. a gasp in the back of his throat that he can feel all he way down to his bones as the other stills above him, pliant and warm and his if he wants to see it that way, though he isn't .. completely coherent of that fact.
mine, he thinks idly, hoping that it doesn't transfer too thoroughly. he isn't sure what he would think if that were to hold true.
bones sighs. bone-deep ( ahahaha, very fucking funny ) and reaches a hand to thread through messy black hair as the other buries his face in the older man's neck, a comfortable and preferable thing that he reinforces with a soft noise in the back of his throat, low and unbidden.
stay, is the word he doesn't offer verbally.
i want you to. ]
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Sleep.
Coherent enough to offer half-hearted mental commands. At this point, he probably wouldn't have left if Bones were screaming at him to do so. This is pleasant, he's not going anywhere fast without some significant inspiration or tipping force. And yet there may a small ripple of something like approval. Then he finds one of his hands stroking a nearby ribcage and doesn't know how long he's been doing it. ]
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damn, but that sounds like a fine idea.
his body is spent, more than he ever thought it would be - and he acquiesces much more quickly than he otherwise would; he settles, taking in that hand that strokes along his ribcage, vaguely wondering if the other means to.
and then decides that he doesn't give a fuck, because it feels nice and he's so goddamned tired that he would let him do it, anyway. without any thought put behind it.
bones hums; something deep, rough and pleased, nestling into the other's touch without any thought at all to the contrary. ]
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wow totally forgot DO NOT BE ALARMED i just renamed his account.
beautiful
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