Elevator Love part 18b
By Tralla
Contains: 4x1x1x4 lemon (NC-17)
We’re at the hotel, in our suite, in the bedroom. It’s late. Dinner was quiet. Everything is quiet.
He’s got his back against the wall. He’s standing against it, not leaning on it. I’m in front of him. I was undoing his belt and now I can’t move.
They’re there. Images. The image of the back of his head...and then his hand...and then his thumb on her face...his thumb...wet under the weight of her tears.
It’s been bothering me...the way he responded to a stranger...tender gestures given to someone he knew nothing about. The thought is there: his gestures are cheap, easily reproducible.
His breathing has changed. I can tell. I’m making him uneasy.
“You’re having a rough time,” he says.
His hand is on mine. He’s helping me pull the belt loose. I feel it...the leather snaking away from his waist, under our pull. It’s out from all the loops. Together, we drop it.
I’m partially bracing myself on the wall. From fist to elbow, my arm is on the wall, just at the side of his head. I’ve got my nose in his hair and my lips on his ear. He’s undoing his shirt for me. It’s obvious. The task is beyond me. My fingers were shaking as we dropped the belt.
He’s quiet. I don’t move.
Finally, he murmurs, “I had to be with myself. That’s why I left.”
I get it. The shaking has turned into willful motion. I’m moving away. I’ll give him space.
But he has a hand on my arm. “I don’t feel crowded.” He moves forward. We’re nose-to-nose as he says, “I just have...”
“Issues,” I answer for him. That’s fine, but apparently I’m not done talking. “You threw away your phone.”
He just lost a shade of color. “Yes.” There’s a long pause. “I won’t put up with interruptions.” His hands are on me. “Anymore.”
He’d chucked the phone instead of turning it off, a significant motion.
His fingers are on my cheekbone. His other hand is on my shirt. He’s being tentative with me. I’m still scaring him.
He doesn’t get it. We’re scaring each other.
I’m dizzy with that scent of his. We’re away from his estate and he still smells like that pool. Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe the pool simply smells like him. I feel myself going down. I’m descending. My lips are leading the way. I’m sucking at his neck and listening to his breathing. I’m reliving how it became unsettled when my lips had barely grazed him.
My tongue is on his collarbone and then his nipples and then the area over his ribs...
I’m on my knees sucking at the skin of his abdomen. I want him to the degree that I’m in pain.
He’s to blame for my current situation, my current position.
I have to take everything from him, while I still can.
I’m stroking his crotch and kissing his skin, kissing one of his faded scars.
From the sounds coming from him, he’s the one having a rough time now.
His patches...his blemishes, even now...I know...watching me stare at them unnerves him. Having me treat them tenderly can break him. Issues tied to physical flaws. His weakness.
We’re on a level playing field now.
He’s on the bed, naked and laid out. I’m also without clothing, but past that nothing is normal. I have my head on his stomach and I’m nuzzling him. There’s something wrong with me. I can admit it. There’s something wrong with me, but I’m not the only one at fault. Weird vibes. I’m getting weird vibes from him. He’s got a hand on my head.
I move his hand away and begin moving the rest of myself. I snake up beside him. I’m resting on one arm looking down at him. I lift my free hand to in front of his face.
He looks at my palm and then back at me.
He doesn’t like taking orders, but he’ll put up with gestures.
He reaches out and takes ahold of my wrist. I watch his mouth open. I’m already sweating as I feel the first lap of his tongue against the skin of my palm.
He doesn’t just lick it. He sucks at it before running his tongue up each of my digits, but he doesn’t stop there. I watch as my thumb enters his mouth under his urging. I feel his wet drags. I feel his tongue curling around my thumb. He closes his eyes. It looks like he’s finding solace, taking solace. It’s a long while before he pulls my thumb from his mouth, opens his eyes, and begins giving each finger the same treatment. All I can do is watch, sweat, and feel.
He’s finished with my fingers. Instead of letting me jerk him off, he’s pushing my hand toward my cock. His hand is over mine. He coaches me into a sitting position, releases my hand, and then goes behind me. He’s kneeling behind me, whispering to me, telling me that I should take care of myself. From his tone, he doesn’t just mean this mutual masturbation session that he’s setting up. In general...I should take care of myself...
His mouth is on my skin, that area where the shoulder and the neck meet. I feel wetness creeping from his mouth. He’s drizzling saliva on me. I feel it moving, slowly sliding between my shoulder blades and down my back. I hear and feel him shift away. Then I feel something else. He’s rubbing his cock on me, rubbing it along the wet trail.
He’s still whispering. I can’t tell if he’s baiting me or encouraging me to stroke myself harder and faster.
He’s reminding me of 3 nights ago and what we did. He’s telling me how tight I was when he entered me. He reminds me of the noises I made and then my reaction when it was my turn, when it was my turn to take him from behind. He’s reminding me of what I said to him.
“Too...tight...I...can’t stop...”
He’d gotten the pitch, the anxiety perfectly.
It’s clear. He’s baiting me. I know it without being told. He’s trying to distract me from earlier.
He’s good. All I want to do is blow him.
I turn around. He allows me to pin him.
I’m kissing him all over, sucking at his flesh desperately, desperately making my way down his body.
His cock his under my chin and then on my lips.
The feel of him, the smell of him just before I take him into my mouth...
I’ll come just by blowing him.
I’m straddling one of his legs. My cock is against his thigh. I have a hand on the bed bracing myself. My other hand his holding his hard length to my mouth. My body is rocking slowly, causing my cock to rub against his leg as I pleasure him.
I calm myself and go slower. I take him out of my mouth. I’m crouching, licking at his inner thighs and then his balls. I’m becoming more swollen with each pass of my tongue against his flesh. I’m massaging his balls with my lips. My nose nudges the root of his cock. I bring my tongue to it and streak it with my saliva from root to head and I’m back where I started. I take his cock into my mouth again. I have my hand on him. My grip is tight, as are my lips around him as I beginning to bob my head. He’s going in and out of my mouth, sliding in and out.
I stop and look at him. He was watching me. His hands are clutching the sheets. His bottom lip is quivering. His chest is heaving. He’s sweating and flushed and trying not to say anything. He’s resisting. He’s not letting himself enjoy me. Why?
He just pulsed in my grip. He averts his gaze. He’s gasping.
The thought is immediate: he needs to be pushed.
Out the corner of my eye, I see my pants. I release him and stretch over to get them off the floor. I reach into the pockets and take out what had recently come to mind. I drop the pants. I’ve got what I need.
Earlier, I’d grabbed some after dinner mints as we left the restaurant. I just popped two into my mouth. I’m sucking on them. I can feel my tongue being coated. Good. I want the effect to last.
The very moment I took him into my mouth he’d made a noise. It was a noise of shocked pleasure that escaped him as his body jerked. His body had convulsed, as though a current of electricity had coursed through him.
And now I can’t shut him up.
“Heero...you...God...ahh.”
Sacrilege...referring to me as God just because I know how to use mints, just because I enjoy having his minty cock pop in and out of my mouth.
“Stop...Stop...”
He’s wasting his time trying to defy me. I can tell. I can tell everything. His breathing. His voice. His trembles. The way the skin is so tight around his balls. It’s over for him.
He came in under a minute. He’s out of breath and shuddering against the sheets. He came with such force that my hand didn’t contain all of his cum. He squeezed out a lot more than usual. It’s seeping from my grasp. I must have taken out his reserves.
I take my hand and I streak him with his cum, from stomach to throat. I refrain from putting it on his chin. It’s tempting, but I don’t.
I think I broke him. His fingers are shaking. He’s looking at me, rasping out, “Where...did you...learn that?”
I move to his side and cover his mouth with my dry hand. “Go to sleep.”
I look at him. Through the fatigue evident on his face, I see traces of curiosity and awe. He doesn’t get it. What I gave him...what he tried to fight...what made him call out like that...what broke his will and left him sated...was a combination of everything I’ve learned from him...with a dash of my own secret wishes.
I take my hand away.
He’s dozing off. I watch the last vestiges of wakefulness leave him. He looks younger, not childlike...but at ease, unconcerned, almost blissful. It’s the first time I’ve seen that look.
I feel my lips moving. My mind allows it. “Good night...”
A low noise escapes him.
Quatre...
I reach out. I should have gotten him to blow me before telling him to go to sleep.
I can admit it. I was distracted.