rohanson: (Theo)
[personal profile] rohanson
Mer and I walk through the streets of Wellington dressed in leather and mesh on our way to meet Darla, the server from the leather shop.

The morning I went back to the shop to buy the cuffs, I had a long conversation with her, and she told me of a club in Wellington that she thought my partner and I might enjoy. A place in this world where those who have similar tastes to us can come together and, as she put it, “party”. I admitted to being intrigued and asked her more. She called it Lucid, and when I told her I was rarely in town and did not know of such a place, she quite happily volunteered to take us both.

She gave me her phone number, and a few days before I was due to see Mer again, I shifted in just after Paris had fallen asleep and called her to make arrangements. And now she is waiting for us as we approach the place she suggested we meet her. I smile at her and she waves in greeting. She is tall and slim, her black hair shot through with dark red strands, and a soft ankle length leather coat moves around her as she walks towards us, revealing her long legs accentuated by high heels and a very short leather skirt. As she reaches us, she embraces me with a smug smile and slips a small heavy box into my pocket as she kisses my cheek. When she steps back I give her a tiny nod of thanks and introduce you both, and we continue on our way.

When we arrive, the throb of the music hits us even before we have paid our way in and left our jackets with an attendant. Darla turns and smiles at us before leading us downstairs into the club, the beat wrapping around and pulsing through us.

"Enjoy! I’ll catch you guys later"

With a wink, she flits off through the crowd.

The club resembles the last club we were in, where we met Faramir, but there are differences. The clothes here are even more revealing, and in some cases, almost non-existent and there is a lot of leather. A woman with long blonde hair pulled severely back from her face walks past leading a man on a collar and leash and I see your eyes widen. It occurs to me that you might think I want you to submit to me here, and seek to put your mind at rest.

I pull you close, digging a hand into your hair. “No games tonight, my stallion. I would never ask that of you in the presence of others.” My hand slips into yours and I pull you towards the dancers, my eyes sparking.

Éomer: You have been almost vibrating with excitement since I arrived at the warehouse this evening, telling me that we are going to a special club. I was surprised when you insisted on choosing my clothing, but I want you to be proud of me, want to please you, so I agreed to the leather pants and the leather vest with lacing across the chest that does not close it enough to cover my nipples completely, and the edge of the ring in the left one shows. Then you fussed over my hair, washing it and brushing it smooth, leaving me nearly purring at the attention and wanting you badly. But the mischief in your eyes tells me that you will force me to wait and that whatever you have planned will thoroughly test my control.

I am startled by the club and its patrons, for I did not know that such games were played here openly. The music is loud, a pounding beat that should get my blood flowing, wanting to move with it, but I am afraid that I will not be able to fight my nature and I am worried until your words soothe my fears.

I let you lead me among the other dancers, my body already moving to the tempo of the drums and we dance as I have always wanted to do with you, our bodies moving together, now brushing lightly, now grinding, hands everywhere. My desire increases with every touch, until I know that the evidence cannot be concealed in these tight pants that give me no breathing room.

Théo: Your hair ripples like golden silk as we move and as your hands skim over my hips, I push them forward. I can feel the heat of your desire hard against my own through two layers of leather, and twist my body, sliding against you to the beat of the music. Your hands tighten on my waist, raw need darkening your eyes, a lust shining there that would devour me whole if it were to be unleashed.

That I wake such an intense passion in you is intoxicating. It pushes my ever present craving for you higher, and urges me on to tormenting you further, a darkly wicked smile on my face.

My arms snake around your neck, fingers tangling in silken strands, and I find my eyes drawn to your parted lips. Moving closer as if to kiss you, my lips ghost across them, barely touching. I pull back as you seek to deepen the contact, keeping it featherlight, breathing your breath which grows ever more ragged by the minute, teasing and tempting as our bodies still undulate together, driven by the beat.

Éomer: The growl that vibrates through my chest is beyond my control, and I fight the urge to crush you to me and end your teasing. I will the surge of desire away, and decide to take revenge on you. I close my eyes and lose myself in the music, imagining that you are under me, writhing and begging. I let my body show you what I am thinking, moving as though we are making love.

My own actions are making me hotter, and I pull you to me, turning your back to me and hold you in place while my groin brushes your buttocks. I keep my movements light, trying to stop myself from grinding against you.

Théo: I arch back, moving my shoulders so they brush against your chest. Letting my head drop back against you, I reach behind, hand digging into your hair, urging your mouth down to my neck. Your teeth roughly graze my skin and my body goes rigid in anticipation of more. But instead, you run your tongue lightly down towards my shoulder making me shiver and groan with frustration as your hips continue to shift lightly against me.

The heat of the other writhing bodies around us only seeks to heighten my desire, and my whole body throbs with the need for release, something I know you feel too. Enough teasing. Coupling is accepted in this place, but not on the dance floor, Darla had explained to me during our phone conversation, and as my eyes scan the room, I can see that it is true. One man is leaning back against one of the pillars that ring the dance floor as another sucks him enthusiastically, and there are low lit arches against the far wall, half of which are to be occupied by two or more people letting their desires free. I know there is more to this place, on the lower level, but exploring can wait. There are more pressing things that need to be taken care of.

I turn in your grasp and kiss you hard, plastering my body against yours, tongue plundering your mouth before pulling away. "The back of the room, now."

Éomer: Your urgency lights a fire in me that will not go out until it has been slaked on your body. I see at what you are looking and what else is going on in darkened corners of this place. I wrap a hand around your wrist and tug you after me, using my size to force dancers and others squirming to other music to give way before us. I find a clear spot of wall, where the lights are low and I know clearly what you intend. Once I might have hesitated, but not tonight. Desire sharpens its claws in my belly as I latch my mouth onto your neck.

I pull away a moment later, cursing and snarling at the fastenings of your pants, which have become wedged by your hardness. Much as I want you, I do not want to hurt you, so I step back until you are free. Then I go to my knees, engulfing the heat of you in my mouth, a sharp stab of satisfaction at the taste and feel of you on my tongue once again, sucking and swallowing, wanting to take you in as far as I can. To devour you.

Théo: My thoughts had not run as far as to how we would satisfy our thirsts for each other in this place, only that the need to do so was overwhelming. So when you sink to your knees and take me so deep, it takes me by surprise. My senses and desire are already so high that you have me groaning from your first touch. My hands grip your shoulders and the sight of you working my hard flesh, not caring that we are in the midst of so many people, takes my breath away.

And yes, there are others watching what you do to me, but you have my full attention and they may as well be invisible. Buried in the soft wet heat of your mouth, I try to still my hips as you take me even deeper, my cock slipping down your throat. I have no desire to choke you, but my body moves of its own accord until you roughly grasp my hips with both hands in a vice like grip, your thumbs digging into the muscle on either side of my stomach. With one last swirl of your tongue, you swallow around me and I lose control, my hands digging into your hair as I come hard with a strangled cry.

Éomer: My mouth works you as I frantically want to taste you, all of you, and when you start pumping down my throat, my own cock jumps and leaks. I think if I just laid the slightest finger on myself, I would spurt over the inside of these pants. My hips are rocking against my will as I nuzzle my nose into your hairs, the familiar scent of your crotch flooding my nostrils. I let the scent become everything, ignoring the looks that I know we are getting, losing myself in you once again.

The hand that was buried in my hair has gentled, stroking now, as you lean back against the wall. I let the knowledge of who and what I am become a shield against these strangers as I finally release you, putting you away carefully and getting to my feet. My body is thrumming with unsatisfied desire as I wait to see what you will do.

Théo: I pull you to me as you stand, the urgency gone from my movements although I can feel the tension radiating off you. Reversing our positions, I push you back against the wall and run my hands down your body, kissing you, groaning into your mouth at the taste of me on your lips. I run my nails lightly over the exposed edges of your nipples making you hiss, and move lower. Slipping my fingers between the leather of your waistband and your heated skin, I run them backwards and forwards until a warning growl rumbles through your chest, and I smile against your lips, finally releasing your throbbing erection into my hand.

My mouth slips onto your neck as my thumb grazes over your freely leaking slit, and I murmur against your skin, words that are meant for you alone, telling you exactly what I would do to you if we were alone as my hand moves relentlessly around your rock hard flesh. As I feel your body reaching its peak, I drop to my knees in front of you, and take you in my mouth, the first spurt of come hitting the back of my throat as your body spasms and I milk your release from you until you pull me back by my hair. Looking up at you with a grin, I lick at an escaping drop at the corner of my mouth as I ease you back inside the leathers and fasten them.

Éomer: Your voice speaking those inflaming words to me is enough, I have been teased enough, and with your come still flavoring my mouth, I cannot stop the orgasm that is overtaking me when your hand closes around me. I am lost in the sensation and I do not care where we are as you realise when I am losing control and neatly take my spendings in your mouth.

I pull you up, fastening my mouth to yours, moaning against your lips at the taste of me inside your mouth. “What you do to me . . . “ And I remember when you made me come with just your voice and a shuddery aftershock flits through me.

“More dancing?” I ask when I finally feel my legs steady under me again.

Théo: I push myself against you, still held in the circle of your arms. "We will have time for more dancing later," Although the thought of moving together, losing ourselves in the beat of the music again does make me think it would be a fine way to spend the rest of the evening. But my curiosity about this place gets the better of me. "A drink first, I think, to satisfy another kind of thirst, then we can explore." I smile at you and take one more kiss before we head off towards the bar.

It does not take long before we both have bottles of weak ale in our hands. Your size and presence seems to work to our advantage in many situations here. The stairs leading down are close by, and we are almost to the bottom when I hear the unmistakable sound of leather striking skin. We emerge into a large room. Smaller than the room above, but bigger than the dance floor itself, and not as packed full of people, it is dominated by a series of large cages. The majority of these are occupied with people performing various acts, like the woman in the one nearest the stairs who is flogging a man tied down to a large cross. Others wander between the cages, some simply watching, some taking much more pleasure from these sights.

I finish off my drink and put the bottle down. You do the same and m y fingers tangle with yours. I squeeze your hand before tugging you a little closer to the first cage.

Éomer: Never have I imagined the things that I am seeing here below the main part of the club. My nostrils flare at the smell of sweat and sex, and I nearly rear back against your guiding hand. But I do not smell fear in the sweat, only more lust. This is almost beyond my comprehension, and though I will not interfere, I need to see this man's face . . . to see if this is truly something he enjoys.

I ignore the woman and look at the man. His eyes are dazed with lust and I concede that this is something he wants. But in our world, a beating like this, in public, is reserved for the most serious offenders. It is hard for me to understand how he can be enjoying it here, with people watching his humiliation.

On occasion, you have taken me to a place where the boundaries between pleasure and pain become blurred, so I am willing to try it, for you. But only for you. Never share it.

I do not know if you have brought me here to ask me a question or not, but I will tell you. My gaze is troubled as I meet yours. "Not like this."

Théo: "No …" I murmur as I look into your eyes, shaking my head, my thumb moving in soothing circles on your hand. "Not like this."

When Darla told me of this place, I had to see it for myself. To think that others practiced these activities openly, and often with an audience, intrigued me. It is something I would never have thought of doing. Whenever I have shared these things with my riders and more recently with you, it has always been private. And these open displays have done nothing to change my mind on that score. To get caught up in the sweat and heat of the dance floor and act on it is one thing, this is quite another. An additional motive for bringing you here was to let you see what others enjoyed. I think perhaps it would have been better to simply show you myself.

I brush the hair back from your shoulder with my free hand, letting my fingers linger on your neck. "You are mine, as I am yours, and I will not share what we have with the world any further than we already have. And if you let me show you these things, my way, I will never push you for more than you can give me." I pull you away from the first cage, moving slowly past the others towards the stairs at the other end of the room.

Éomer: As we move through the room, I see many things that I had never considered to be an act of love between two people, nor things that I had ever dreamed would be a sexual act. But the information my senses are giving me cannot be denied . . . the soft moans of desire, the smell of musk, the expressions of ecstasy of the faces of those being made to suffer. Not suffering . . . that is not the right word for what these people endure, although in other circumstances the word would be apt.

My body reacts to the sensual input, how can it not? If I block out what they are doing, and concentrate on what they are feeling, this room is awash in lust and I am responding to it with some part of me. Your hand on the small of my back steadies me as we climb the stairs and my head becomes clearer, leaving room for thought. Your ready agreement with me that this is not the place for us to explore such things has reassured me.

But I realise that I do want to explore this with you, for you have done things to me and with me that I never imagined. I try hold back a quiver of delight, remembering how you so thoroughly claimed me with your entire hand. I know there is more, because the one thing I am sure of is that you were not surprised by anything we saw downstairs. And I trust you with my whole being, for you have never taken what I have not willingly given you.

Since you have agreed that we will not share this, it is my turn to reassure you that I am not frightened by what I saw, I was merely startled.

“Your way . . . yes, I want that.”

Théo: Dark desire curls deep inside at your words and I pull you close, kissing you hard. "Then I think it is time we left this place."

I spot Darla by the bar and take my leave of her first. She looks disappointed to see us go, but I reassure her I will be visiting her shop again. We collect our jackets and head out into the cool night air. I think we both feel a sense of urgency to be alone, and make it back to Paris' home in quick time. After your reactions to what you saw in the club, I do not want you to think too much on it before I can show you what I want from you.

As we enter the warehouse, I turn to face you, running my fingers through your hair as I talk. "From this moment on, you will do exactly as I say, follow my every command and if there is anything you do not understand, tell me. Agreed?"

Éomer: Much as I enjoyed the dancing and the thrill of sucking on you in public, I am glad to leave, because I think I need to be alone with you, to have you to myself to sort out my feelings about the other things we saw. You seem to understand my urgency and we are back at the warehouse quickly.

I am still half-aroused and half-alarmed by the experience and I am not sure which way I will go, when you take the decision out of my hands, and a small part of me is relieved. The tone of your voice when you order me to follow your commands is a low and husky and I respond to it as I always do, my body making the decision that I am more aroused than anything else as my cock twitches in response to your words.

“I agree,” I nod.

Théo: I brush my lips once over yours then move back and pull a couple of things out of my jacket pocket. “Take these upstairs to the bedroom.” I hand you the box that Darla gave me earlier and a tube of lube. “Get undressed and kneel in the centre of the open space at the bottom of the bed, facing away from the door. Put these in front of you. I will not be long.” You nod, and I watch as you head off up the stairs. I leave my jacket on the back of a chair, and take off my own clothes apart from the leather pants, giving you time to follow my orders before following you upstairs.

I walk into the room, taking a long breath, and letting it out slowly as I walk round to stand in front of you. You truly are magnificent. My eyes rake over the swell and dip of your muscles, your cock so hard for me, your strong shoulders, the proud tilt of your head and your curious eyes and I let you see the desire burning in mine.

"Open the box and take out what you find inside."

Éomer: I am curious about the box you gave me, but the purpose of the lubrication is obvious and my body clenches with lusty anticipation of you being inside me, taking what is yours. I remove my clothes hurriedly, the leather sticking a little to the sweat on my body. I am perplexed as to how I should kneel. At first, I go to my knees only, my torso straight, but that feels awkward. Then I remember some of the men I saw at the club, kneeling on the floor. So I tuck my feet under my haunches and sit back, spreading my knees for balance. A tremor of nervous desire passes over me, because this way, every intimate part of my body is exposed, but my cock jumps again and I am filled with want. I rest my hands loosely on my thighs, trying to relax.

My tension only increases when I hear you enter. But when you come around where I can see you, my breath catches. Your lower body is still encased in tight leather but your chest is bare and still you are every inch the Second Marshal, my commander. I do not know what you have planned for me, but I trust you with everything that I am.

The box has two things in it. One is a small ring made of steel, which seems to be the right size to be part of the trappings for a horse. It is intricately carved with intertwining loops running around the outer rim of the ring. It warms quickly in my hand and I stare at it, wondering what its purpose is, this thing of strength yet beauty.

The other thing is even more perplexing. It is a small narrow leather strap with a series of fasteners on it, such as are on our other items of leather clothing. I cannot imagine its function, but I know that you will enlighten me eventually, so I decide that this not something that requires a question. I look at you, ready for whatever you will ask next.

Théo: I watch the way you examine the rings before putting them down on the mat. I know your curiosity is roused by them, but I ignore them for now, let you wonder a little longer. You will find out their purpose soon enough.

"My main command is, as always, that you will not come until you have my permission." I reach down with one hand and run my fingers down your jaw, smiling softly. "And before this night is over, you will beg me for it."

Éomer: I am surprised when you do not explain the items and I cannot prevent myself from trying to understand their purpose, my mind making and discarding guesses. Until your hand on my face brings me back to you and I lean against your palm, rubbing into your touch. Your command does not surprise me, I had expected it, but your next words bring back a memory . . . ”How many times I could fuck you, spending myself deep inside you, keeping you so close, not letting you come until you beg me for it?" I shudder pleasurably.

Théo: I drop my hand and take a step back, putting only enough distance between us so I can watch your every move. "Slick your hand, wrap your fingers around your cock and show me how much you want me, show me what I do to you. Take yourself right to the edge."

The scent of your arousal fills the space between us, and I breathe it in, watching your hand move in long firm strokes. Your eyes never leave my face, and I watch yours as your lips part, your breathing becoming louder.

Éomer: My flesh is rock hard as my hand moves over it and I stare at you standing before me, a vision of fantasies that I have brought to mind in the deeps of the nights that we are separated. My grip is firm, sliding, my fingers swirling around the head, teasing my slit. I groan, my orgasm threatening far too soon. I push it away, slowing my strokes a little, but it threatens again, and after a few minutes I cannot continue to deny the sensations. I take my hand away, my breath rasping.

“I am sorry, Théo, but I must stop.”

Théo: I groan at the sight of you, my own cock aching in the confines of my leathers. Taking a step forward, I dig a hand roughly into your hair, and pull your cheek against my hard leather clad flesh. I move my hips as you nuzzle me and look down into your eyes, my grip tightening.

Éomer: Your actions tell me that I did the right thing, and I push my nose against you, smelling your musk even above the scent of your leathers. I am over the crisis point now and I concentrate on digging against your hardness. Your hand in my hair helps me focus and will away the explosion. I meet your eyes, feeling steadier.

Théo: "Again, Mer. Slowly." I keep my grip, giving you something to ground yourself with, and watch as even the slowest of movements takes you so close to completion. Your eyes tell me all I need to know. Desperation touches them, and you push away the craving to spill your seed. You push it away because I ask it of you.

I know what it has taken to last this long, can feel the need in you, feel it as you reach crisis point again. I could prolong it, take you to this point again and again until for hours, but right now, I want to see your face as you let go. I pull your head back exposing the taut stretch of your throat. "You are so beautiful, my stallion. Come for me."

Éomer: Again and again you urge me to the edge and only your hand on my hair, holding tightly, providing just enough counterpoint to the swirling sensations that I am lost in, prevents me from falling, from losing control. I cannot tear my gaze away from yours, blue eyes locked on me giving me something else to hold on to while I deny myself.

Then you free me with your words, and the barest touch of my hand and your voice send me plunging over the edge, and I come like that, kneeling at your feet as my cock spurts my pleasure all over both of us and my eyes never look away from you.

Théo: A delicious tingle runs down my spine as you come, your eyes darkening, glazing as your release hits, then slowly clearing. My hand loosens in your hair, pushing it back from your sweat damp face as your breathing steadies. There is a calm that descends at times like these, the eye of the storm of lust and desire that rages through my body. A quiet stillness inside that allows me to focus before the time comes to let the storm take me.

"Clean up your seed with your tongue." I stand and watch with my arms folded as you wipe the come from your belly with your fingers and begin to lick them. A smile curls at the corners of my mouth as you suck on a digit, my cock jumping.

Éomer: What I really want is to taste you again, but I settle for my own, licking my hand, trying to tease you with it. I swipe as much as I can from my belly, cleaning my fingers slowly, enjoying the sensation of the roughness of my tongue against my fingers. When I am through I hesitate, realising that some of my seed went on your pants. And because you said to clean it, I believe that you have given me permission to lick your legs. I lock eyes with you and slowly move forward, my tongue tasting myself and the leather as I lick up a droplet, watching to see what you will do.

Théo: You take advantage of the leeway in my instruction, and I nod my approval. It pleases me to see you move towards your goal and the way you move makes me wish I had stood further back so you would have had to crawl to reach me. Then I feel your warm breath through the soft leather, feel your tongue pressing against it as you work and my hands slip into your hair once more. Nostrils flaring, I breathe deeply as I watch and the look in your eyes alone is enough to send a shiver through me.

Éomer: You are clean now, and I know I should stop, but my tongue wants to trace the contours of muscles underneath your leather. So I continue, licking and caressing you as much as I can. I look up at you occasionally, letting you see how much I wish to be doing this to you while there are no clothes as a barrier between us. How much I wish you were as naked as I am.

But at last, I can pretend no longer and I grow impatient for you to join me, so I pull back and look up at you, waiting for whatever comes next.

Théo: "Put your hands behind your back, Mer." There is hoarseness in my voice as I drop down onto one knee in front of you, and my fingers linger over the two rings on the mat, coming to rest on the leather one. I pull it open and reach down, fastening it snugly around the base of your cock. Slipping one hand onto your neck, I kiss you hard, my tongue wrapping with yours, tasting your come as my other hand slips down your body. My fingers move over your hip, nails grazing over the skin and you gasp at the touch. I move lower, cupping and stroking your balls first, fingering the leather that holds you then smiling against your lips as your cock jerks at the touch of my hand, my own erection throbbing thickly. You groan into my mouth and I answer it with a possessive growl. "Mine."

Éomer: Your commands sends tremors of desire through me, the tone of your voice and content of your request both equally exciting to me. I am startled when you take the leather strap and wrap it around my cock, the leather gripping my sensitive flesh firmly. I take a quick breath at the contact. When your mouth fastens onto mine, I want to touch you so badly, but my agreement to obey you holds me in check. My head is spinning from conflicting desires when you touch me and my cock fills again, despite the constriction of the leather.

Your claim of ownership sends more spikes of desire for me while at the same time I feel an utter sense of peace and well-being at your words. I am in your hands, to do with as you please and that is precisely where I want to be.

“Yours,” I agree. “Everything . . . yours.”

Théo: At your words, I rub my cheek against yours. Yes, mine. And if there is one thing I know, it is that not being able to touch me drives you to distraction and since that is one of my aims, I continue to touch you. Taking hold of the ring in your nipple, I tug on it gently. With a smile, I lower my lips to your collar bone, mouthing along it, twisting the ring as I work, taking hold of your hip with my other hand to steady us. I reach your neck, and bite down hard, sucking nipping and moving on, moving the ring in circles until I can feel the rumble of your groaning through your skin. "If I could, I would pierce the other, mark you myself." I reach back and grab your hair, pulling you back into an arch to give me access to the virgin nub of flesh and roll it between my teeth, rasp my tongue over it. "Push the needle through your skin … catch the drop of blood on my tongue …"

Éomer: The twisting feeling of your fingers on the ring in my nipple sends lightning shocks to my groin and my breath is ragged by now. And your words . . . the idea of you doing the piercing yourself . . . as an act of love, the intimacy of it makes me groan and thrust myself against your mouth, desperate for more contact. I nearly whine when you stop your tender torment and take my mouth again. My hands are clenched behind my back and I need to touch something, my fingers twine around each other and I am wishing it was some part of you that I am holding.

Théo: One last fierce kiss, nipping at your bottom lip, then I sit back and take the top off the tube holding it out for you to take. "Prepare yourself. I want you open and ready." I watch you slick your fingers and get to my feet, my breath a little ragged as you follow my command.

Éomer: I take the tube from you, grateful that you will allow me some contact, even if it is with my own flesh and not yours. When my fingers are very wet, I slide them behind me, holding your eyes. I try to tease you by teasing my cleft but I want your touch too badly to hesitate and I plunge a finger in, working it around. I am sensitive already and the contact sends shocks through me without me ever touching the place deep inside. I bite my lip, remembering how you claimed me, and my muscles flare open almost without my will, and I slide another finger in, groaning. I am relaxed and needy, and all too soon I need more, and the third finger goes in with ease. I move them back and forth, the feeling sending my desire higher and I slowly impale myself on my fingers, wondering if I could get another one inside myself.

Théo: Walking round you I trail my fingers across your shoulder, your wanton display bringing a moan to my lips. Watching as you slip a third finger inside yourself, arching and writhing at your own touch I suddenly want nothing more than to push you down and take you hard and fast right now … It takes a couple of deep breaths to centre myself again, ignoring the ache in my groin for a little longer. Squatting down behind you, I run my hand down your back and reach lower to where your fingers breach your entrance. Your hand is slick and I run my fingers over yours, brushing over stretched muscle. "Fuck yourself." I growl against your neck, and on your second stroke, I push my finger in alongside yours.

Éomer: I give a strangled cry at your command, wanting to do nothing else, but when you add your fingers to mine, the sensations are overwhelming. I am riding the currents of desire, being tossed around against my will and I know that I will not be able to obey your injunction much longer. We are moving together now inside of me and because you do it with me, it is almost as good as having your cock in me. Another wave of pleasure hits me and I am just barely able to fight it back.

“Please, Théo, let me come.” I no longer care that you have already made good on your word or that you have not come yet, so lost am I in this pleasure I am finding at your hands.

Théo: My own control is unravelling fast and any plans I had for the rest of the night are forgotten as my fingers wrap with yours deep inside your heat and you beg me for release. "No, my stallion. Hold it in for me. I want to hear you scream as I take you." I slow the movement of our hands and then pull out, pushing you onto all fours and kissing the base of your back before getting to my feet and peeling my leather pants from my legs. Dropping back to my knees behind you, I run my finger down your cleft, and you buck and moan at the touch, writhing as I run my hands down your sweat damp thighs, each touch taking you higher. And now I need to be inside you as you come apart so I swat at your backside to make sure I get your attention. "Be still, Mer."

My hand lands on your buttock with a more force than intended, the short sharp sound of skin on skin reverberating through me. You are suddenly utterly still and silent and I wonder if you are following my command or if this kind of pain is something you will not want from me, or maybe the unexpected simply startled you into silence.

Yet even as I am wondering, my fingers are moving on your skin, tracing the handprint, moving over the redness, feeling the heat from the mark. It is as if I have never seen this before. And I have not, not on your skin. My spine tingles and my palm prickles with the urge to do it again.

Éomer: My head is spinning from the suppressed desire and the effort of holding back, my body trying to move with you. The contact of your hand on my flesh is just one more sensation among many, which should feel like pain, but does not. Instead it sends more heat slicing through my body, pushing me further to the edge. I obey your command without thinking, and I hang my head panting, stilling my body.

Your hand tracing the place on my flank is almost too much for my sensitised flesh, the echoes of the pleasure of it still reverberate through me and I whimper, spreading my legs farther, disobeying you, but wanting you to move, to act, to push me off of this place where I am caught by your commands and my own desires. The bit of leather on my cock is gripping me more tightly now as more blood courses into that organ.

I arch my back. “Yours.” It is all that I can manage, a statement of surrender, my will given to you.

Théo: You remind me of what I know to be true with your body as well as your voice, and my hand lingers a moment longer on your skin before I pull it back and strike your flesh again. I shift a little and my palm warms as does your skin with each new blow, and the feel of firm muscle under my hand and the way you move and moan spur me on.

I realise now that I have been holding back. My intense desire to take you further down this path was tempered with fact that you mean more to me than any other person ever has or ever will. Part of me, deep down, feared hurting you or pushing you away. But no longer.

Another strike and I pause, groaning at how ready you are for me, how every touch has you quivering, knowing how very close you must be. I run my fingers firmly over your rosy skin, letting one dip between your cheeks and linger over your entrance. "I want to take you, Mer, pound into you until you cannot walk, but I want to hear you ask for it first."

Éomer: I shudder under your blows, my control lost, part of my mind wondering at the pleasure I am taking from this, but your every touch drives me to distraction and this is no different. Your fingers run over the skin you have tenderized and I am drowning in it again. I moan when you tease over my hole, wanting you in there more than I can say.

Your words register dimly and finally I make sense of them. My throat is dry from my heavy breathing and I swallow a few times before my voice works properly. “Please, take me. Take me hard, and claim me. Please Théo.”

I push back against you, trying to find you, trying to impale myself on you.

Théo: One last hard slap to your skin and I take my neglected cock in hand, moaning at my own touch. You are slick and open and I sink into you with one thrust to the hilt, gripping your hips and groaning as I finally bury myself in your flesh. You grind back against me, white heat gripping me, and I pull back and pound into you, again and again, taking you, claiming you.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, you throw your head back with a cry, your hair whipping over my chest and my thumbs dig into your tormented skin. One hand slips round, grasping your cock, fingering the leather band and I can feel the heat writhing inside me, demanding release. "Come for me." The words are barely from my lips before my own orgasm hits me and I slam into you, coming so hard, snapping the fastening under my fingers open before the world slips out of focus.

Éomer: You slide into me easily, hitting the spot inside me on your first thrust and the spikes of pleasure you send through me snaps my control and I feel the ripples of orgasm spreading through me. But the band on my cock somehow prevents the sensation from building fully and I moan at the pleasurable anguish of hanging there, pleasure surging through me but unable to complete my release. You are thrusting against me in a hard, savage rhythm, and I am one long, continuous spasm of ecstasy.

Your hand on my cock nearly makes me shriek, because the sensations are so intense they are overwhelming me, and when you take the leather away, everything slams down on me and I lose myself, bucking and thrashing against you as my long-denied orgasm bursts from me. My sight goes blurry and I cannot hold both of us up any longer, and I pitch forward on the mat, your weight sprawled across my back.

Théo: When it hits you I ride it out, still caught in the throes of my own release, hips snapping forward to meet you as you twist and writhe. My arm tightens around you, fingers damp and sticky with your come, holding you until we collapse together, and all I can do is lie there for a moment, spent and breathless, pinning you to the floor.

Your ragged breathing gives me something to focus on, and I ease up onto my arms, nuzzling your hair and kissing your neck before I pull out with a gasp. I grab a towel which had been left on the floor and use it to clean us up, then gently push you onto your side, pulling you to me and stroking your hair back from your face. My fingers move over your shoulders your back, tiny caresses to help bring you back to me. I consider pulling the quilt off the bed, and curling up on the floor for the night, but it will be more comfortable for you to sleep in the bed once I can get you into it. And I know where Paris keeps a soothing salve which will help cool your red and tender skin.

"Mer …" I smile softly as your eyes begin to clear, and capture your lips in a slow kiss.

Éomer: Your mouth on mine, soft and gentle, is the first thing I feel as the haze gradually clears from my mind. I do not know where I was, only that you sent me to someplace else, a realm where pain and pleasure mix and blur. My body is relaxed, boneless, although parts of it throb and ache, but the feeling is remote, as though those parts are not truly attached to me. I feel too good to care and I let you tend me, moving when you whisper instructions to me and finally you help me off of the floor.

A bone-deep weariness has taken me and I settle gratefully among the pillows. You apply some sort of salve to my sore haunches, it tingles and smells like mint, but the sore places feel better immediately. I murmur contentedly and soon you are beside me, stroking my hair back again.

In some part of my mind, I feel that I need to tell you that I do not object to what you did to me, for I know that you would never push me farther than I could bear. I lean into your touch.

“Trust you, Théo. Love you.”

Théo: Settling against your side, I slide my legs against yours, pulling the quilt around us to keep you warm. I cannot stop touching you, and slip my arm over your back, snuggling close and kissing your shoulder as your words swell my heart. Your unwavering trust touches me deeply. What you saw earlier tonight in the club concerned you, yet still you put yourself in my hands, trusted me. And I will never fail you.

"Sleep, my love." I kiss your cheekbone and you hardly stir, already drowsy. My head is filled with the possibilities to be explored, things I will show you, and a metal ring lying untouched on the mat, but all these can wait. Now, I will watch over you as you fall asleep, knowing I will join you shortly.

NC-17 with mild D/S situations

December 2007

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