[Orig] All is Violent, All is Bright (31days)
Title: All is Violent, All is Bright
Day/Theme: 31_days September 6 - one puff of breath is never enough
Series: Original - Stockholm Syndrome
Character/Pairing: Zide/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 533
A/N: Porn time. Who agrees?
All is Violent, All is Bright
31_days, September 6
Hot breaths mingle together as hands claw at each other, ties loosening and pants sliding down as hips grinding, seeking the slightest of friction for comfort. It’s wrong, oh so wrong, but neither of them care anymore. They have to get it off their systems, they have to settle this tension once and for all.
The Council office has never felt this suffocating until now, his hands finding purchase on the tall, leather chair’s headrest as nothing but his shirt remains, clinging to his shoulders, baring his sweat bathed chest. The heat burns not only in his face. No, it goes farther south, through his chest and down, down, down into his loins, his gut twisting and churning from just how hot and tingling it feels to have hands caressing him everywhere.
Then he gasps as something cool and slick and bony slithers down the small of his back and into ass, resting, prodding that tiny hole there, but not hard enough to enter. He almost whimper when it toys the rim, featherlight touches teasing the sensitive skin.
“Hurry,” he gasps, mouth hanging open as saliva trickles down from the corner of his lip. A tongue licks it away, then his head is thrown back as that finger forced itself into the tight ring of muscle, and he swear he could feel knuckles brushing against his balls.
He moans, and moans even louder when that finger keeps on thrusting in and out of his body, twisting every now and then, and his entire body convulses at every sensation the ceaselessly violent rhythm brings.
He finally whimpers, body slumping forward as that finger stops before slowly leaving his body completely. His hips buck, and he can’t help but rub himself against the still clothed thigh he’s sitting on. He has to relieve himself; it’s too much.
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” that cruel voice whispers to him, yet he could barely give much thought to it anymore for the moment he raises his head, he was thrown back. Wood meets shoulderblades as his head hits the desk, and faintly he could hear the sound of an empty inkwell hitting linoleum floor.
Without another word, his knees are pushed up, resting on broad, strong shoulders, and he screams and moans and screams again when he feels something hard and hot rammed into him, pulling out agonizingly slow before plunging in again, burying itself to the hilt.
He almost curses the ridiculous length of his hair, as every thrust into him only tugs his still tied yet messy hair that’s stuck between his back and the desk. Then the pain disappears as he feels nothing but that cock mercilessly fucking him, rough hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, teeth and tongue and lips altogether branding him anywhere they could reach. And without being touched, he screams as blinding lights flash before his eyes, hands curling into fist and clutching that wild mane of raven hair as tight muscles clamp down on that thick flesh continually pounding him.
And together they came, lips sealing the other closed. Heaven, it feels like, and they both know this is only a start of many other troubles.
Day/Theme: 31_days September 6 - one puff of breath is never enough
Series: Original - Stockholm Syndrome
Character/Pairing: Zide/Chris
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 533
A/N: Porn time. Who agrees?
All is Violent, All is Bright
31_days, September 6
Hot breaths mingle together as hands claw at each other, ties loosening and pants sliding down as hips grinding, seeking the slightest of friction for comfort. It’s wrong, oh so wrong, but neither of them care anymore. They have to get it off their systems, they have to settle this tension once and for all.
The Council office has never felt this suffocating until now, his hands finding purchase on the tall, leather chair’s headrest as nothing but his shirt remains, clinging to his shoulders, baring his sweat bathed chest. The heat burns not only in his face. No, it goes farther south, through his chest and down, down, down into his loins, his gut twisting and churning from just how hot and tingling it feels to have hands caressing him everywhere.
Then he gasps as something cool and slick and bony slithers down the small of his back and into ass, resting, prodding that tiny hole there, but not hard enough to enter. He almost whimper when it toys the rim, featherlight touches teasing the sensitive skin.
“Hurry,” he gasps, mouth hanging open as saliva trickles down from the corner of his lip. A tongue licks it away, then his head is thrown back as that finger forced itself into the tight ring of muscle, and he swear he could feel knuckles brushing against his balls.
He moans, and moans even louder when that finger keeps on thrusting in and out of his body, twisting every now and then, and his entire body convulses at every sensation the ceaselessly violent rhythm brings.
He finally whimpers, body slumping forward as that finger stops before slowly leaving his body completely. His hips buck, and he can’t help but rub himself against the still clothed thigh he’s sitting on. He has to relieve himself; it’s too much.
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” that cruel voice whispers to him, yet he could barely give much thought to it anymore for the moment he raises his head, he was thrown back. Wood meets shoulderblades as his head hits the desk, and faintly he could hear the sound of an empty inkwell hitting linoleum floor.
Without another word, his knees are pushed up, resting on broad, strong shoulders, and he screams and moans and screams again when he feels something hard and hot rammed into him, pulling out agonizingly slow before plunging in again, burying itself to the hilt.
He almost curses the ridiculous length of his hair, as every thrust into him only tugs his still tied yet messy hair that’s stuck between his back and the desk. Then the pain disappears as he feels nothing but that cock mercilessly fucking him, rough hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise, teeth and tongue and lips altogether branding him anywhere they could reach. And without being touched, he screams as blinding lights flash before his eyes, hands curling into fist and clutching that wild mane of raven hair as tight muscles clamp down on that thick flesh continually pounding him.
And together they came, lips sealing the other closed. Heaven, it feels like, and they both know this is only a start of many other troubles.