rabenhorst (
rabenhorst) wrote2010-02-10 05:42 pm
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Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Sweet Morning
Author:
fonulyn
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Toshiya/Die
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Theme: 004: Bold and Delicious
Summary: One morning, Toshiya decides to have Die for breakfast. And make him even sweeter.
Comments:
fonulyn: First of all, this is dedicated to
daidetre. I promised her I’d write some table-smut already I don’t know how long ago XD PLUS I still didn’t get her the promised birthday-present-fic even though her birthday was … ages ago. So consider this a very late present, dear! XD Secondly, I have to admit I quite like this myself as well. At least I was in some desperate need of T/D smut. So I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
And feel free to add our journal if you like the stories!
Plus, the archive.
Sweet Morning
It’s not often that Die finds himself flat on his back, on their kitchen table of all surfaces. Granted, he’s had his fair share of kitchen counters, all too familiar with both his own and Toshiya’s by now. Counter is a different thing than a steady table though. Counters are for quick fucks, for releasing pent up pressure when there’s not much time to tease, actually no time for even the act itself, and still they can’t hold back. Countless times he’s been bent over the counter, sitting on the edge of it, or alternately has had the younger man in those positions.
Not now. Now his arms are stretched out to the sides, tied to the table legs so that he can’t really move his upper body. He can squirm, he can shift, but he can’t do much anything with his hands. He stretches out his fingers, runs them across the surface of the table and he knows he has nothing to grasp on to. Nothing but the rough fabric that attaches his wrists to the table. Toshiya really took him by surprise this time, used nothing but an apron and torn kitchen towel to tie him up before he even managed to process the fact that he’d been slammed down on the table.
Somehow, Die still has troubles processing the moment when Toshiya climbs on the table, between his legs, running his palm over the older man’s soft thigh. He’s wearing nothing but his skin, neither of them is, and already before the thought sinks down into the guitarist’s brains he feels something cool on his stomach. Startled, he looks up, much more surprised now than when he was tied up to the table at nine thirty in the morning, instead of getting his usual cup of coffee.
Honey.
Die recognizes the jar, knows that this isn’t any regular supermarket honey. He doesn't even want to know how much the other man paid for that liquid gold. All he can focus on is the feeling of it coating his skin, sticking to every curve, sneaking to his pores and glimmering on his chest. It is cold when it hits his body, but it only takes seconds for it to warm up, for his own inner heat to devolve on it. He bites his lower lip, softly, in anticipation, chewing on it without even noticing what he’s doing. A nervous habit.
A moment later a stifled outcry breaks the silent air in the room. Toshiya latches his mouth on Die's skin, nibbles on his neck, licks his way down to his jugular, bites on his collarbone, sucks on a honey coated nipple with such ferocity that it draws a surprised - nevertheless pleased - moan from the guitarist. The sticky substance seems to be like glued on him, hard to get off, and he can feel the pressure Toshiya has to apply to all of his actions. He needs to use his teeth to get the honey off that ridiculously smooth skin, to get every speck of it, savoring the taste of honey mixing with Die on his tongue. His head is spinning from the mere scent and he thinks, he knows, he makes sure that Die feels it in multiplied intensity.
It’s like Die’s world is melting down around him. Everything is honeyed, everything liquidizes until it’s all one golden, sticky mess of nothing but feelings, sensations and anticipation mixed into one. Die is shivering when he feels more honey poured on his skin, on his thighs, insides of them, between them. Toshiya goes where the honey is, finding every sensitive spot with merciless accuracy. Die’s head is spinning. Then, that sinful tongue is working into him, touching places he never thought he'd allow anyone to taste. It’s almost surreal. He cries out and his eyes snap open as he parts his legs invitingly, in a silent plea for more. Yet he does not dare to say it out loud. Already showing he likes it, showing he wants more of that tongue, feels so forbidden that his cheeks grow hot, stained by the sudden blush.
All too soon it’s over. Die knows it has to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer, his self control is hanging by a silken thread already as it is. He draws in a shaky breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to get a hold of himself. Somehow. He can still feel those lips on his skin, the wet tongue sweeping over his hipbone, those teeth playfully sinking into the flesh on his side. Toshiya smiles, against the soft spot right beside Die's navel, his lips curving into a wicked grin. He enjoys this, obviously more than he usually enjoys his breakfast. Then again he has always had a thing for sweet breakfast, something like a slight honey addiction.
Just when Die thinks he has calmed down enough to speak he opens his mouth and yet all that comes out is a strangled outcry. The set of lips that was pressed against his stomach mere seconds ago is now around his cock, moving down as he is engulfed in that hot, wet cavern. Something jerks in the pit of his stomach and he bucks up, unable to hold back the forceful shudder that shakes his whole being. Toshiya moans around the thick flesh and he can feel the vibrations in his throat, the way he is suppressing the gag reflex and tries to give all he's got. He has Die writhing, squirming, panting, whimpering in mere seconds, completely at his mercy. At the mercy of his mouth and his hands, working their magic.
Die doesn’t even notice he’s begging. The words spill from his lips on their own, the urgency to get more, more of this, more of the sensations, more of anything, too much for him to take. “Oh god. Please.” It’s enough to make Toshiya pull back. He’s not a cruel man, he knows how far he can push the older man before he snaps and just before that, he gives in. It’s like a fight of wills where no one loses, there are only winners. Toshiya moves closer again, ghosts his lips over Die’s, teasingly licking over his lips to offer him a taste of honey mixed with himself. Die’s legs practically fall apart when Toshiya nudges his thigh with his knee, urging him to make more room for him between them.
When Toshiya is finally inside of him, Die can only claw on the surface underneath him, desperate, not caring if his nails leave marks on the polish. The hard wood of the table seems to be the only thing holding him back to reality, as he can feel it press against him with every movement of the man on top of him. He throws one of his long legs around the bassist’s hips, opens up for him, tries to meet his every movement. Eagerness meets demand, he is willing and yielding, in control and yet completely at Toshiya’s mercy. Everything at once.
They are moving as one. A well rehearsed play, result of years and years of practice. Still every time new, always changing, never the same.
Die throws his head back when Toshiya's release fills him, hot and sticky and somehow it reminds him of the honey that covered him just a while ago, specks of it still left, stuck on him. Vocal chords are clearly visible on the side of his throat and yet not a single sound is heard. He literally holds his breath for those few seconds, for those three heartbeats before he follows the younger man. Neither of them can stop trembling, tremors shaking their joined bodies, their minds somewhere far away, drowning in the sensations.
They kiss and Die wonders if it's Toshiya that tastes so sweet, or if it's still the honey on his tongue.
----
words: 1318
Author:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Toshiya/Die
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Theme: 004: Bold and Delicious
Summary: One morning, Toshiya decides to have Die for breakfast. And make him even sweeter.
Comments:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
And feel free to add our journal if you like the stories!
Plus, the archive.
It’s not often that Die finds himself flat on his back, on their kitchen table of all surfaces. Granted, he’s had his fair share of kitchen counters, all too familiar with both his own and Toshiya’s by now. Counter is a different thing than a steady table though. Counters are for quick fucks, for releasing pent up pressure when there’s not much time to tease, actually no time for even the act itself, and still they can’t hold back. Countless times he’s been bent over the counter, sitting on the edge of it, or alternately has had the younger man in those positions.
Not now. Now his arms are stretched out to the sides, tied to the table legs so that he can’t really move his upper body. He can squirm, he can shift, but he can’t do much anything with his hands. He stretches out his fingers, runs them across the surface of the table and he knows he has nothing to grasp on to. Nothing but the rough fabric that attaches his wrists to the table. Toshiya really took him by surprise this time, used nothing but an apron and torn kitchen towel to tie him up before he even managed to process the fact that he’d been slammed down on the table.
Somehow, Die still has troubles processing the moment when Toshiya climbs on the table, between his legs, running his palm over the older man’s soft thigh. He’s wearing nothing but his skin, neither of them is, and already before the thought sinks down into the guitarist’s brains he feels something cool on his stomach. Startled, he looks up, much more surprised now than when he was tied up to the table at nine thirty in the morning, instead of getting his usual cup of coffee.
Honey.
Die recognizes the jar, knows that this isn’t any regular supermarket honey. He doesn't even want to know how much the other man paid for that liquid gold. All he can focus on is the feeling of it coating his skin, sticking to every curve, sneaking to his pores and glimmering on his chest. It is cold when it hits his body, but it only takes seconds for it to warm up, for his own inner heat to devolve on it. He bites his lower lip, softly, in anticipation, chewing on it without even noticing what he’s doing. A nervous habit.
A moment later a stifled outcry breaks the silent air in the room. Toshiya latches his mouth on Die's skin, nibbles on his neck, licks his way down to his jugular, bites on his collarbone, sucks on a honey coated nipple with such ferocity that it draws a surprised - nevertheless pleased - moan from the guitarist. The sticky substance seems to be like glued on him, hard to get off, and he can feel the pressure Toshiya has to apply to all of his actions. He needs to use his teeth to get the honey off that ridiculously smooth skin, to get every speck of it, savoring the taste of honey mixing with Die on his tongue. His head is spinning from the mere scent and he thinks, he knows, he makes sure that Die feels it in multiplied intensity.
It’s like Die’s world is melting down around him. Everything is honeyed, everything liquidizes until it’s all one golden, sticky mess of nothing but feelings, sensations and anticipation mixed into one. Die is shivering when he feels more honey poured on his skin, on his thighs, insides of them, between them. Toshiya goes where the honey is, finding every sensitive spot with merciless accuracy. Die’s head is spinning. Then, that sinful tongue is working into him, touching places he never thought he'd allow anyone to taste. It’s almost surreal. He cries out and his eyes snap open as he parts his legs invitingly, in a silent plea for more. Yet he does not dare to say it out loud. Already showing he likes it, showing he wants more of that tongue, feels so forbidden that his cheeks grow hot, stained by the sudden blush.
All too soon it’s over. Die knows it has to. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer, his self control is hanging by a silken thread already as it is. He draws in a shaky breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to get a hold of himself. Somehow. He can still feel those lips on his skin, the wet tongue sweeping over his hipbone, those teeth playfully sinking into the flesh on his side. Toshiya smiles, against the soft spot right beside Die's navel, his lips curving into a wicked grin. He enjoys this, obviously more than he usually enjoys his breakfast. Then again he has always had a thing for sweet breakfast, something like a slight honey addiction.
Just when Die thinks he has calmed down enough to speak he opens his mouth and yet all that comes out is a strangled outcry. The set of lips that was pressed against his stomach mere seconds ago is now around his cock, moving down as he is engulfed in that hot, wet cavern. Something jerks in the pit of his stomach and he bucks up, unable to hold back the forceful shudder that shakes his whole being. Toshiya moans around the thick flesh and he can feel the vibrations in his throat, the way he is suppressing the gag reflex and tries to give all he's got. He has Die writhing, squirming, panting, whimpering in mere seconds, completely at his mercy. At the mercy of his mouth and his hands, working their magic.
Die doesn’t even notice he’s begging. The words spill from his lips on their own, the urgency to get more, more of this, more of the sensations, more of anything, too much for him to take. “Oh god. Please.” It’s enough to make Toshiya pull back. He’s not a cruel man, he knows how far he can push the older man before he snaps and just before that, he gives in. It’s like a fight of wills where no one loses, there are only winners. Toshiya moves closer again, ghosts his lips over Die’s, teasingly licking over his lips to offer him a taste of honey mixed with himself. Die’s legs practically fall apart when Toshiya nudges his thigh with his knee, urging him to make more room for him between them.
When Toshiya is finally inside of him, Die can only claw on the surface underneath him, desperate, not caring if his nails leave marks on the polish. The hard wood of the table seems to be the only thing holding him back to reality, as he can feel it press against him with every movement of the man on top of him. He throws one of his long legs around the bassist’s hips, opens up for him, tries to meet his every movement. Eagerness meets demand, he is willing and yielding, in control and yet completely at Toshiya’s mercy. Everything at once.
They are moving as one. A well rehearsed play, result of years and years of practice. Still every time new, always changing, never the same.
Die throws his head back when Toshiya's release fills him, hot and sticky and somehow it reminds him of the honey that covered him just a while ago, specks of it still left, stuck on him. Vocal chords are clearly visible on the side of his throat and yet not a single sound is heard. He literally holds his breath for those few seconds, for those three heartbeats before he follows the younger man. Neither of them can stop trembling, tremors shaking their joined bodies, their minds somewhere far away, drowning in the sensations.
They kiss and Die wonders if it's Toshiya that tastes so sweet, or if it's still the honey on his tongue.
----
words: 1318
no subject
I KNOW ONE UNFORGETTABLE TABLE SEX!..but it's Ruki/Aoi so I dunno if you'd like it:D..
BUTTS OUT. XD
no subject
no subject
there's not much need to know..just that Ruki is small and evil and Aoi sexy:D
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no subject
I hope you'll still read it or find it there:D....
there you go:
1st http://saiko-sushi.livejournal.com/7125.html
2nd http://saiko-sushi.livejournal.com/10173.html
enjoy!!♥