Few Words Wednesday

A bit more from the next (last?) chapter of Revelations:

“I wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.”

Zach raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t,” Chris insisted. “No more than a hickey or rug burn or those finger bruises you leave on my hips sometimes or any of the other amazing-sex-related minor irritations either of us have to occasionally incurred. Which I generally find extremely hot for days afterward.”

“And what if I’d picked up the crop and left welts on your ass as well?” Zach asked, frustrated that Chris was not able to see the difference a hickey and a mark from tying him up. But Chris didn’t recoil like Zach expected; he shivered.

“I was expecting that, actually. I was waiting for it.”

“Were you disappointed?” Zach asked a bit incredulously.

Chris huffed a laugh. “I’d been begging for you for ages. I was thrilled when you finally fucked me. No, I wasn’t disappointed. But I’m also pretty sure I would have liked it. I was so hyped up by that point, so desensitized, that whatever was going to happen next needed to be intense. And if it left welts that I would have felt for a day or two, how is that worse than not being able to sit because my ass took a pounding? And you know I like that.”

Zach shook his head, not quite able to understand why Chris would want that.

“Look,” Chris said, stroking his fingers along Zach’s temple to get his attention again. “I get that things didn’t go exactly as you planned, and I know you well enough to know that’s probably making you crazy. But I’m fine. I feel good. I feel… refreshed. Revitalized. More than I ever have after the ten minutes of meditation at the end of yoga. You did that. Now, if you don’t want to do it again for some reason, that’s fine. But if you think the reason we shouldn’t do it again is because I got hurt, then that’s not a good reason. Because I’m great.”

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday

A bit more from the (maybe last?) chapter of Revelations:

“Zach?”

Zach’s gaze found Chris’ eyes. His very worried looking eyes.

“Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s going on? Because I’m still a bit floaty, but you are obviously not having a happy afterglow. And I don’t really understand why. Did you… did you not *enjoy* it?” There was trepidation in his voice and an earnestness in his expression that made Zach feel almost dirty.

“I did,” he admitted, lowering his eyes. “Too much.”

“That’s really not possible,” Chris argued.

“Chris,” he said, more sharply than he intended. He took a deep breath and tried to direct his anger where it rightfully belonged. “Are you not at all disturbed that I was too caught up in how you looked — too caught up in how it turned me on — to notice that the restraints were rubbing you raw? I was selfish, and —”

“Oh my god, you really are freaking out. Stop.” Chris pulled himself half on top of Zach and kissed him, ensuring he really did stop talking. Zach tried to protest, but was helpless against the tenacity of Chris’ lips. They were soft and warm and still a bit kiss-swollen from earlier, and they held no judgement or fear. If anything, they were sweeter than usual, less desperate. Reassurance in the brush of warm skin and slide of tongue. Soft comfort giving way with a sigh to something richer. Something deeper and more demanding, making Zach’s eyes flutter. With a shuddering breath he felt some of the pressure in his chest loosen. Just as he was starting to forget what he was going to say, Chris pulled away.

“Now. Let’s try this again. Let me tell you how it felt on my end, okay? Because ‘selfish’ is not a word that comes to mind.” He nipped at Zach’s lips one last time before propping himself up on an elbow. “You know how you can get all intense and sexy? Of course you do — you’ve met you. Well imagine having that that intensity turned on you for nearly two hours, with the its sole intent, apparently, to keep you aroused and on the edge of orgasm. For two hours! You were reading my reactions like I was a language only you understand — and I’m honestly starting to think that might be true. I have never felt so much attention paid to me in my life. It was… it was intense and beautiful, and I felt like the center of the fucking universe. So how can that be selfish? Don’t answer; I’m being rhetorical.”

Responses

REsponse to: Anyone writing tonight?I’m in need of motivation…

mightymads said: Go
ato! You can do it 😀 Mb it’s not motivation per se, but just some
cheering. I’m really looking forward to the next chapter (like lots of
people out there) whenever it’s ready.

Cheering is always nice! Thank you. And encouragement without pressure is also much appreciated… I think the problem is I have all the parts of this chapter written in my head, but not necessarily how to string them together…

Replies

to my last Few Words Wednesday

mightymads said: Oh I love his ruminations, the way everything caught up with him.

Yes, it’s the difference between fantasizing about something and actually doing it. And actually owning your reactions to it, even when they don’t fit into your ideas of yourself. And maybe Doms need aftercare, too. Luckily, Chris isn’t one to let him stew in his own head…

semper-ama said: Awwwww, noooo, Zach. D:

Yeah. 😦 Babies! In truth, I think Zach spent so long planning that encounter that he’s pretty thrown that it didn’t all go exactly as planned. And he’s surprised and a little disturbed by his own reactions. And that combination, of not being as in control as he thought and having such a strong reaction to it…that’s a little scary.

Few Words Wednesday

A continuation from what I posted for Six(ish) Sentence Sunday:

Zach examined the entire sac, touching up a spot here and there, and then finally just rolling the smooth skin through his fingers as Chris moaned and trembled.

“Just a bit more,” he said, running a finger along his crack to make sure the oil was still in place. He drew the razor in short, slow strokes, and now Chris was arching into each one, trying to offer better access, each squirm bunching his muscles deliciously. “Hold still,” Zach chastised half-heartedly, holding the razor away from his skin. “At least until I set down the blade.” He heard Chris blow out a breath and nod into the sheets. “Good.”

Another minute of blades drawn against pale flesh and Zach was done, wiping the excess oil away with a towel placing the tray with the bowl, razor and oil aside on the floor. He knelt close behind Chris, running fingers along smooth skin as Chris now allowed himself to squirm into the touch again. “Hmmm, very nice,” Zach whispered. “But there’s only one sure way to know how well I did.”

He leaned forward and trailed his tongue along the path his fingers had just explored, taking first one ball into his mouth, and then the other, as Chris cried out in vaguely encouraging way. Zach pulled back and blew across the skin he’d just moistened, reveling at Chris’ writhing and whimpering. Chris was even more responsive than usual, bare skin sensitive to touch and the presence of the restraints seeming to intensify his reactions. He squirmed against the cuffs again as Zach licked up to his opening and began teasing. This was familiar ground now; they had long since established that Chris liked this, and his litany of Zach’s name and yes and oh god just confirmed it. Soon Zach added a lube-soaked finger, and then two, his own patience faltering as he stretched Chris in a way that had become familiar and welcome over the last weeks. But they were about to depart from the familiar.