rabenhorst (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rabenhorst) wrote2010-03-22 03:02 pm
rabenhorst) wrote2010-03-22 03:02 pm
Entry tags:
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Title: Devour, Savor
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fonulyn
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Toshiya/Die
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Theme: 033: New day’s dawn
Summary: There is nothing like the predatory look in Toshiya’s eyes when he looks at Die. There’s need laced in that gaze, underlined by some primal appetite that the guitarist has no words for.
Comments:
fonulyn: School is just either eating me alive or letting me get away with things so easily I don’t know what to do with my time. Hence, I don’t do anything. Writing has been in a total standstill too. But now I’m feeling kind of positive, and hopefully I’ll get back to it slowly :) Maybe. So yeah, decided to share the last few ficlets I have finished. Here, have some mindless smut XD
And feel free to add our journal if you like the stories!
Plus, the archive.
There is nothing like the predatory look in Toshiya’s eyes when he looks at Die. There’s need laced in that gaze, underlined by some primal appetite that the guitarist has no words for. All he knows is that he loves it when that gaze is directed at him, loves to feel it on his skin as intense as a touch. A shiver goes down his spine, his heart speeding up and for a moment he feels that his knees indeed are going to give out underneath him. It’s too much for him to handle, especially when the gaze is combined with a still sleepy, horny Toshiya who just woke up a moment ago.
Die only resists since he thinks he has to. It’s late, they both know they should already get going so they won’t miss work, and the reasonable part of his brains tells him they shouldn’t. Yet his resistance is weak, every attempt futile. A tiniest headshake, followed by a pleading “C’mon Tosh” and that’s the best he can offer. Even if the words would’ve been enough to make the younger man back off, the fact that his eyes are telling a whole different story certainly doesn’t help. There is a hungry sparkle in his eyes and he can’t help but to wordlessly beg the bassist to ravish him anyway.
Before he even knows what’s happening, he finds himself bent over the kitchen counter right beside the sink. He barely has the time to yelp and his pants are yanked down, out of the way. A shudder goes through him as he feels the slightly rough fingertips on the smooth skin of his inner thighs, tracing random patterns there only to shamelessly roam upwards. His head is spinning, all possible traces of resistance crumbling away and he even parts his legs to ask for more. No one else ever had such an effect on him, he realizes vaguely while those sinful fingers ably find every single sensitive place to tantalize, every right spot to brush over.
In mere seconds, Die’s whole world is circling around the sensations within. The only reason he is even remotely at his senses is the cool surface of the counter against his skin. His cheeks are flushed, his full lips parted to let ragged gasps of air through, his long fingers curling as he tries to find something to hold on to, anything. Finally he settles for basing his palms on the counter, finding some support in it as at least something in his world seems to stay steady instead of spinning away. It’s like his anchor to reality, the single thing that keeps him rooted down on earth.
Already being tantalized by those fingers makes him feel like he’s melting away into a puddle of sheer white pleasure, but it’s nothing in comparison to what will follow. He can feel soft lips on his skin, right beside his shoulder blade and a shiver goes down his spine at the intimacy of the gesture. He squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath as he waits, impatiently. Only when the younger man finally moves, filling him perfectly, so hot and hard and heavy, he releases all air from his lungs in one go. His fingers curl, his nails raking over the surface of the counter without finding anything to grab.
There’s a hand on his neck, grabbing the dark strands of his hair and his head is forced down, against the counter. He releases a long, ragged breath and doesn’t even notice that the bassist’s name spills from his lips along with it. Yet, Toshiya notices, and reacts to it instantly. The movements of their joined bodies grow faster, deeper, greedier. Gone are the thoughts concerning work, the feeling of hurry. There is only them, in a secluded bubble frozen somewhere in time.
Afterwards they’re both spent, breathless and just leaning against each other tiredly. A pair of strong arms sneaks around Die’s waist as he instinctively leans back against the other man. Warm skin on skin, the thin layer of sweat slowly drying as if it never was there to begin with.
This, Die thinks, is how he likes his mornings.
Author:
fonulynRating: NC17
Pairing: Toshiya/Die
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Theme: 033: New day’s dawn
Summary: There is nothing like the predatory look in Toshiya’s eyes when he looks at Die. There’s need laced in that gaze, underlined by some primal appetite that the guitarist has no words for.
Comments:
fonulyn: School is just either eating me alive or letting me get away with things so easily I don’t know what to do with my time. Hence, I don’t do anything. Writing has been in a total standstill too. But now I’m feeling kind of positive, and hopefully I’ll get back to it slowly :) Maybe. So yeah, decided to share the last few ficlets I have finished. Here, have some mindless smut XDAnd feel free to add our journal if you like the stories!
Plus, the archive.
There is nothing like the predatory look in Toshiya’s eyes when he looks at Die. There’s need laced in that gaze, underlined by some primal appetite that the guitarist has no words for. All he knows is that he loves it when that gaze is directed at him, loves to feel it on his skin as intense as a touch. A shiver goes down his spine, his heart speeding up and for a moment he feels that his knees indeed are going to give out underneath him. It’s too much for him to handle, especially when the gaze is combined with a still sleepy, horny Toshiya who just woke up a moment ago.
Die only resists since he thinks he has to. It’s late, they both know they should already get going so they won’t miss work, and the reasonable part of his brains tells him they shouldn’t. Yet his resistance is weak, every attempt futile. A tiniest headshake, followed by a pleading “C’mon Tosh” and that’s the best he can offer. Even if the words would’ve been enough to make the younger man back off, the fact that his eyes are telling a whole different story certainly doesn’t help. There is a hungry sparkle in his eyes and he can’t help but to wordlessly beg the bassist to ravish him anyway.
Before he even knows what’s happening, he finds himself bent over the kitchen counter right beside the sink. He barely has the time to yelp and his pants are yanked down, out of the way. A shudder goes through him as he feels the slightly rough fingertips on the smooth skin of his inner thighs, tracing random patterns there only to shamelessly roam upwards. His head is spinning, all possible traces of resistance crumbling away and he even parts his legs to ask for more. No one else ever had such an effect on him, he realizes vaguely while those sinful fingers ably find every single sensitive place to tantalize, every right spot to brush over.
In mere seconds, Die’s whole world is circling around the sensations within. The only reason he is even remotely at his senses is the cool surface of the counter against his skin. His cheeks are flushed, his full lips parted to let ragged gasps of air through, his long fingers curling as he tries to find something to hold on to, anything. Finally he settles for basing his palms on the counter, finding some support in it as at least something in his world seems to stay steady instead of spinning away. It’s like his anchor to reality, the single thing that keeps him rooted down on earth.
Already being tantalized by those fingers makes him feel like he’s melting away into a puddle of sheer white pleasure, but it’s nothing in comparison to what will follow. He can feel soft lips on his skin, right beside his shoulder blade and a shiver goes down his spine at the intimacy of the gesture. He squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath as he waits, impatiently. Only when the younger man finally moves, filling him perfectly, so hot and hard and heavy, he releases all air from his lungs in one go. His fingers curl, his nails raking over the surface of the counter without finding anything to grab.
There’s a hand on his neck, grabbing the dark strands of his hair and his head is forced down, against the counter. He releases a long, ragged breath and doesn’t even notice that the bassist’s name spills from his lips along with it. Yet, Toshiya notices, and reacts to it instantly. The movements of their joined bodies grow faster, deeper, greedier. Gone are the thoughts concerning work, the feeling of hurry. There is only them, in a secluded bubble frozen somewhere in time.
Afterwards they’re both spent, breathless and just leaning against each other tiredly. A pair of strong arms sneaks around Die’s waist as he instinctively leans back against the other man. Warm skin on skin, the thin layer of sweat slowly drying as if it never was there to begin with.
This, Die thinks, is how he likes his mornings.
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