justice_is_blond | Inbox for Fade Rift

"Celestial," he echoes it, smiling up at Nate. "Are you my night sky, then?" His gaze rests on Nate's hair with a little longing, but he doesn't have time to focus on that when Nate's telling him how he wants him.

Anders spreads as instructed and bats his eyes. He might not be able to touch, but that doesn't leave him without other ways to play.

"Is this how you like me best? Bare and open? On my back, waiting for you?"

"I dream of it day and night." Nathaniel takes out the tin of salve and slicks his fingers. "But any way I have you is how I like you best."

He draws a slick line up the length of Anders' cock, already hardening beautifully for him. "Say my name."

He watches Nate's fingers intently, starting to feel some of the appeal in not using his hands - his focus is narrowed and that makes the simple touch on his cock more intense.

"Nathaniel." It's little more than a voiced whisper, almost a prayer. "I dream of you as well. Your touch, your company, your mouth and voice and heart, my Nathaniel."

Nathaniel smiles. It is warm and wicked, proud and pleased.

"The louder you say my name, the harder I will suck your cock, and the harder my fingers will fuck you. Do you accept my terms?"

His eyes darken with lust. Swallowing, Anders nods. He can't touch... but Nate's giving him most of the control, on Nate's terms. It's utterly satisfying.

"So now I've all the more reason to not use the Maker's name while you're fucking me, Nate?" If he's got this power, he's going to use it, though not too much yet. The archer's name is said conversationally.

Nathaniel immediately slides a finger inside Anders at the sound of his name. He probably shouldn't, since it hardly counts, but he knows it will be surprising, and a surprised Anders is gorgeous.

He nearly dislodges the scarf at the finger. Instead, his breath catches and eyes go wide and a little glazed at the sudden insertion. He'd expected maybe a kiss or a tease.

After a moment he's got his breathing under control he's looking back up at Nate and shaking his head.

"If just that gets a finger, I look forward to what happens when I scream your name, love. Though I'd love to know what to say to get your tongue taking my mouth, Nathaniel." He always likes saying Nate's name, but now he's savoring it.

The finger moves, though slowly and shallowly and only once.

"I was only making you pay attention," Nathaniel says as his finger stills. "You keep saying a great many words as if I would reward you for any but one. And here I went to all this trouble."

The slow movement gets a quiet noise as he tries to figure out what word Nate means. Not his name, clearly--oh. Now he looks a little apologetic.

"Yes." He wants Nate's efforts to be worth it, because they always are for him. "I'm sorry, love. Nathaniel. I accept your terms."

He doesn't hesitate after Anders says his name to move his finger again, but a crease appears between his brows.

"Was I not...clear?" He removes his finger, actually a bit flustered. "Did I not explain well enough? Are you all right?"

Touching Nate's face has never been more tempting, but Anders has to content himself with shaking his head.

"No, love, you did fine, I'm fine. I didn't think to answer your question. I got a little," a little bashfulness enters his smile, "ahead of myself. I like this, Nathaniel, very much. And I have a word to say if I'm not all right. I'll use it if I need it. Please believe me. And please, Nate, Nate, my love..." There's some mischief back in his expression as he gets louder.

The sight of Anders still obeying him even when the proceedings have halted is so arousing that Nathaniel finds himself grasping for the salve again. He slicks his finger again and slides it home, his smile returning. Three thrusts, then, each firmer than the last. He forms an idea, slowly.

"A change to our plans, my love. Nathaniel will get you a thrust of my fingers, but love will get you my mouth on your cock. What do you think of that?"

"Oh." He can't answer right away, enjoying the three thrusts, but then he's nodding. Clearly he's going to have to be making some very difficult choices.

"I think that sounds like I've a lot of words ahead of me, Nathaniel, my love." Those words already normally carry a thrill. This time they're accompanied by expectation and desire as he watches his lover, waiting, anticipating. "Though you scarcely need to bribe me to tell you how much I love you, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel, his finger moves again, love, he ducks his head and licks long from Anders' balls to the tip of his cock. Nathaniel, his finger grinds in deep, love, his other hand takes Anders' cock and gently lifts it enough for him to take the tip into his mouth and hold it there, waiting.

"I can't..." It's so difficult to decide what to do. The grind of Nate's finger is just as good as the lick, and just as good as being held in Nate's warm, wet mouth. Anders shivers despite the warmth of having Nate right there with him. "Love, oh love, Nate, please. Fuck, please, Nate, fuck me, Nathaniel."

Each word makes him go deeper; Anders' cock slides into his mouth, deep, twice, and another finger slides into Anders' body. The thrusts go deep with each iteration of Nathaniel's name, and each profession has Anders' cock disappearing into Nathaniel's mouth and throat. It's hard, keeping himself to what he has said he will do instead of grabbing Anders by the hips and shoving his cock inside. The begging drives him mad. But there will be other times when he can give into the begging. Now, he relishes the suffering. He delights in Anders' distress and the vulnerability it brings out in him, the closeness and intimacy of this moment.

He whimpers at the fingering. It's so good and yet it's barely anything at all.

"Nate, Nathaniel, love, what do I say for you fucking me, Nate?" The begging isn't likely to have an effect, but he's trying anyway. The worst that can happen is Nate keeps fingering him. The best, well. It's obvious what the best would be. "Or more fingers, Nate, please."

Begging is a thrill of its own, though most of the time it's accompanied by someone listening and giving what he's begging for. He's not certain Nate will this time, and it's a delicious uncertainty.

A third finger joins the others, and Nathaniel starts desperately planning a change in the scene. The longer it goes on, the less certain he is why he is denying Anders' request. Slowly, he eases off the sucking of his cock, pulling away and breathing for a moment.

"You've been so good," he says, his voice low and husky, "I'm going to fuck you now. And remember if you can't keep your hands where they are, I will stop. Do you agree?"

His fingers slow their movement inside him, keeping the heat going but not building it.

He watches Nate, trembling thanks to anticipation and all that the man's already given him.

"I agree." The words are rushed out this time. "I agree, love." The added finger is good, but it's just not the same as having Nate buried deep inside of him and on top of him.

"Kiss me as you take me? Please." He'll beg for anything; Nate gives him so much and has always seemed to enjoy the begging.

"Because I love you, I will. Not because you've been good, but because I love you." There's such a swell of pride for Anders, that he is doing so well his very first time trying this. But he would never withhold the affection of a kiss just because Anders has misbehaved.

His trousers are cast aside quickly. He kneels between Anders' legs and lines himself up, elated that Anders is enjoying this so much. When he kisses him, it is passionate, heated, slick and perfect and just as sweet as his cock entering Anders' body. His hips jerk himself all the way in, burying himself to the hilt in perfect heat. Spearing Anders while Anders is willingly trapped under his word of command is unbearably hot, and he gives a long, low groan into his lover's mouth.

It's all the better to be kissed for love than for a reward, and Anders kisses back hungrily, eyes tightly shut as Nate pushes in. He can't get enough of the feeling of fullness from Nate or of being loved; it's all-encompassing in the best way. And it makes obeying all the more fulfilling. He's not restrained. He's submitting to the best person he knows, and filling his ears with Nate's delicious groan.

Anders braces his heels on the bed and rocks upward, careful to keep his arms in place as he moves around his lover.

"Yes," he whispers against Nate's lips. "You are sublime, Nate, my love." Being fucked no longer relies on the use of those words, but Nate had wanted to hear him and Anders has no reason to stop saying either now.

Oh, but the rule is still in place, as Nathaniel shows by thrusting twice, deeply, when those words are spoken. Enough to make him shake. One hand braces himself against the makeshift bed while the other takes Anders by the hip.

"Keep going," he gasps. Both his pleasure and Anders' relies on it now, stilled within him and waiting.

The noise that escapes him is part-gasp, part whimper. He hadn't expected the sudden forceful thrusts or for them to stop so quickly, and he almost fails their game, almost reaches up for Nate. The scarf's slipped some from the half-lift of one arm, but it's still barely on both wrists and Anders gives Nate a pleading look. He's trying. Maybe it won't count, because he'd be pulling at things if he was held.

"I know how you love to take me, Nathaniel," he purrs, being as persuasive as he possibly can. "And I love the way you fuck me, Nate." There could be less words. He could try to push Nate to desperation, try to see the archer lose control, but the submission here is more fun.

He drives in each time, gasping. The hand moves from Anders' hip to adjust the scarf again--it merits no punishment, because the hands have stayed put while the fabric slipped--before moving it back to tilt Anders' hips upward.

"More." At the new angle, Nathaniel slides easily against his prostate, deep and unrelenting.

"Oh." Right there, and they both know Nate's found the right spot.

"I wish I could touch you, love. Thread my fingers through your lovely hair," does lovely count? It should, in his opinion, "kiss your lips and make it clear how much I love you, Nate." The worlds are spilled out hastily, breathily. Just as good as the thrusts are the anticipation of Nate reacting to the words.

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