sabinelagrande (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sabinelagrande) wrote2011-05-16 11:42 am
sabinelagrande) wrote2011-05-16 11:42 am
Fic: I've got skills I can't speak of
Title: I've got skills I can't speak of
Summary: She's not supposed to like it.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 866
Rating/Contents: NC-17, D/s, bondage, rough blowjobs, a soupçon of breathplay
Pairing: Caldwell/Weir
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Here's a story I started a while back and never finished, possibly because writing it made my throat hurt. But again, we must be the porn we wish to see in the world. Title from Massive Fucking Attack, because isn't everything?
Steven finishes tying her hands together and walks around to face her, sitting down in his chair. She shies away from him at first, leaning back so he has to reach for her, catch her before she can run away.
"You don't have to pretend you don't like it," he says, and his voice is harsh but his hands are gentle, a finger hooked under her chin to lift it up, so she has to look him in the face. "And even if you don't, we both know you're going to do it anyway."
He lets her go, settling back in his chair and spreading his legs wide in invitation. He unzips his pants, pulling his cock free; it's already hard and ready for her. She shifts closer, kneeling up and getting into the right position. She's glad her hands are bound, because she doesn't want him to see them shaking, see how off balance she already is. It's ridiculous- it's the whole point, letting him see everything, letting him take over for her- but it feels like too much too fast.
She takes a breath, and before she can think about it any longer, she leans forward and takes the head of his cock into her mouth, swiping her tongue over it. He doesn't give her time to reconsider; his hand is heavy on the back of her head as he pushes her down farther, sliding more of his cock into her mouth. He doesn't let up, either, keeps pushing and pushing until it's too much, holding her there, helpless and choking.
When she thinks she can't handle anymore, he finally pulls her away. She gasps for breath, and it sounds so loud in her ears; he doesn't give her time to dwell on it, pushing his cock back in as soon as she's had enough air. He's using her, now, holding her head still so he can fuck her mouth, his hips working relentlessly.
There are tears on her eyelashes that have nothing to do with the discomfort; they go with the twisted up feeling in her stomach, the hot curl of shame inside her belly, the tension between what she is and what she should be. She's not supposed to like it, not this much, not supposed to be moaning as he uses her like a cheap whore. She's supposed to bear it, not encourage it; she's certainly not supposed to be this close to coming from having his dick down her throat.
He's talking, saying meaningless things that she can barely hear, but she knows the shape of them, and that's enough. He's telling her how good it is, what a very good girl she is; if there was one harsh word among them, she knows she wouldn't be able to handle it.
He pulls away, looking her in the eyes, wiping the tears from her face. "Do you want more?" he asks, and it's a serious question; he'd stop if she wanted, and that would ruin everything for her.
"Yes, please," she says, quietly; her throat is raw, her voice coming hoarse.
"Good girl," he tells her, petting her hair briefly before he grabs her by it again. He's moving faster now, harder, and she craves it, the pain and the degradation, the power and the powerlessness.
He grabs her and pushes her down hard, holding her still and coming down her throat, pulling back to watch the last of it stripe across her tongue; she swallows as fast as she can, coughing. He stays with her, rubbing distractedly at the tension in her shoulders even as he's recovering.
She's still keyed up, so wet she feels like it's dripping down her thighs; after what feels like forever, he bends down, kissing her neck as he reaches to slide his fingers inside of her. He barely has to move them and she's right there, only just holding back.
"Ask me for it," he says, taking his hand away all at once, and she almost falls in her haste to get more.
"Please," she replies brokenly, feeling new tears starting to well up.
"Please what?" he coaxes, even as he's pressing his fingers against her clit.
She can only manage to whisper. "Please make me come."
"Come, then," he says, and she does, slumping against his leg, her lips falling open.
After a while, he reaches around her to untie her hands, and she almost wants to protest. She just barely gets onto her feet with his help, and he surprises a laugh out of her when he scoops her up, carrying her to his bed.
"Was that what you wanted?" he asks gently, an eternity later when she's all but dozing by his side. She tenses up, unable to bring herself to speak; she nods, hoping he doesn't push it. "Good," he says, stroking her hair. "Because it was pretty good from this end."
She relaxes against him, letting the rhythm of his hand lull her to sleep.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/315497.html.
comments over there.
Summary: She's not supposed to like it.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 866
Rating/Contents: NC-17, D/s, bondage, rough blowjobs, a soupçon of breathplay
Pairing: Caldwell/Weir
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: Here's a story I started a while back and never finished, possibly because writing it made my throat hurt. But again, we must be the porn we wish to see in the world. Title from Massive Fucking Attack, because isn't everything?
Steven finishes tying her hands together and walks around to face her, sitting down in his chair. She shies away from him at first, leaning back so he has to reach for her, catch her before she can run away.
"You don't have to pretend you don't like it," he says, and his voice is harsh but his hands are gentle, a finger hooked under her chin to lift it up, so she has to look him in the face. "And even if you don't, we both know you're going to do it anyway."
He lets her go, settling back in his chair and spreading his legs wide in invitation. He unzips his pants, pulling his cock free; it's already hard and ready for her. She shifts closer, kneeling up and getting into the right position. She's glad her hands are bound, because she doesn't want him to see them shaking, see how off balance she already is. It's ridiculous- it's the whole point, letting him see everything, letting him take over for her- but it feels like too much too fast.
She takes a breath, and before she can think about it any longer, she leans forward and takes the head of his cock into her mouth, swiping her tongue over it. He doesn't give her time to reconsider; his hand is heavy on the back of her head as he pushes her down farther, sliding more of his cock into her mouth. He doesn't let up, either, keeps pushing and pushing until it's too much, holding her there, helpless and choking.
When she thinks she can't handle anymore, he finally pulls her away. She gasps for breath, and it sounds so loud in her ears; he doesn't give her time to dwell on it, pushing his cock back in as soon as she's had enough air. He's using her, now, holding her head still so he can fuck her mouth, his hips working relentlessly.
There are tears on her eyelashes that have nothing to do with the discomfort; they go with the twisted up feeling in her stomach, the hot curl of shame inside her belly, the tension between what she is and what she should be. She's not supposed to like it, not this much, not supposed to be moaning as he uses her like a cheap whore. She's supposed to bear it, not encourage it; she's certainly not supposed to be this close to coming from having his dick down her throat.
He's talking, saying meaningless things that she can barely hear, but she knows the shape of them, and that's enough. He's telling her how good it is, what a very good girl she is; if there was one harsh word among them, she knows she wouldn't be able to handle it.
He pulls away, looking her in the eyes, wiping the tears from her face. "Do you want more?" he asks, and it's a serious question; he'd stop if she wanted, and that would ruin everything for her.
"Yes, please," she says, quietly; her throat is raw, her voice coming hoarse.
"Good girl," he tells her, petting her hair briefly before he grabs her by it again. He's moving faster now, harder, and she craves it, the pain and the degradation, the power and the powerlessness.
He grabs her and pushes her down hard, holding her still and coming down her throat, pulling back to watch the last of it stripe across her tongue; she swallows as fast as she can, coughing. He stays with her, rubbing distractedly at the tension in her shoulders even as he's recovering.
She's still keyed up, so wet she feels like it's dripping down her thighs; after what feels like forever, he bends down, kissing her neck as he reaches to slide his fingers inside of her. He barely has to move them and she's right there, only just holding back.
"Ask me for it," he says, taking his hand away all at once, and she almost falls in her haste to get more.
"Please," she replies brokenly, feeling new tears starting to well up.
"Please what?" he coaxes, even as he's pressing his fingers against her clit.
She can only manage to whisper. "Please make me come."
"Come, then," he says, and she does, slumping against his leg, her lips falling open.
After a while, he reaches around her to untie her hands, and she almost wants to protest. She just barely gets onto her feet with his help, and he surprises a laugh out of her when he scoops her up, carrying her to his bed.
"Was that what you wanted?" he asks gently, an eternity later when she's all but dozing by his side. She tenses up, unable to bring herself to speak; she nods, hoping he doesn't push it. "Good," he says, stroking her hair. "Because it was pretty good from this end."
She relaxes against him, letting the rhythm of his hand lull her to sleep.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/315497.html.