Fic: Belonging
Nov. 16th, 2002 02:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mickeymMore kinky porn! Co-written with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jchalo on AIM.
JC/Chris/Lance [NC-17] -warning for mild D/S
Jeans and a t-shirt land on his lap and JC looks up from his notebook, frowning. Chris and Lance both stand there, small smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. Chris' eyes sparkle like he has a secret. Actually, Lance's do, too -- though not as much.
"Uh, guys?" He closes the notebook, sets his pencil down beside it. "What's up?"
"Get dressed, dude. We're going out." Chris rocks back on his heels while Lance stands quietly. JC glances between both of them, then shakes his head.
"Don't really want to, guys. I wanna try and finish this--" He breaks off when Lance draws a slender black strip of leather from his pocket. JC doesn't need to see more than that to know it also has a small silver buckle and two silver D rings. He swallows. "Um."
"Kneel down, baby." Oh, god. It's that voice. JC shivers lightly and slips from his chair to the floor. Lance's fingers are only slightly cooler than the leather being settled around his neck. "God, I love seeing you wear this." He strokes his fingers through the long tangle of JC's hair, then cups his chin. "We have a surprise for you tonight."
"What." He stops and swallows; this is still new enough it always makes his stomach clench, makes his pulse pound. "What kind of surprise?"
"The kind you'll like, dude." Chris moves behind him and pets his neck, leans down to lick along the side, biting down gently on the big vein throbbing on the side of it. JC groans softly, then louder when Chris and Lance draw him upright, sandwiching him between them to touch and pet and caress.
Lance moves away, for a moment, reaches back into his pocket. "You can wear these too." JC hears the soft metallic clink, the gentle rattle of the chain, and draws in a breath at the sight of the clamps in Lance's hand.
Chris' hands are warm as he runs them up JC's sides, fingers softly curving around his ribs, then gliding gently over his nipples; teasing, flicking at the sensitive nubs of skin, before he leans down to sweep his tongue around them, licking, sucking. JC gasps softly and twines his fingers in Chris' hair, breath catching in his throat at the feeling of gentle suction, already anticipating the stingsharp pinch of the clamps.
Chris bites both nipples gently in turn, tongue working to soothe the hot, tight skin almost instantly. JC moans into Lance's mouth, heat uncoiling through him with the blood that pounds in his head, behind his eyes.
"Ready?" Lance asks as he moves away, and JC nods, teeth clamping down on his lower lip, steeling himself for the sharp bite of metal into swollen, erect flesh. Lance's fingers are warm and firm either side of his nipple; then there's the white-hot flash of pain as the clamp is attatched, and JC closes his eyes against the rush of adrenaline that floods through him, radiating outwards from his nipple in hot, spiky pulses. "One more," Lance murmurs, and JC draws in another breath as Chris' mouth covers his, tongue sliding past his lips, hot, wet, urgent.
Another stinging bite as the second clamp is put in place, and then a rush of sensation as Lance tugs gently on the chain between the two pieces of metal. Wild heat, racing across his chest, along his arms, and settling in the pit of his belly. He's half-hard already, and he groans low in his
throat and thrusts his hips against Chris.
"Slow down," Chris says, and JC can feel his lips curved into a smile against his. "We gotta get you dressed yet." He pushes JC back gently, gives the chain another little tug, grinning when JC snarls softly at him.
He dresses while they watch, his belly already tight with anticipation, the constant stroke and touch of their hands on his skin only increasing the slow burn of arousal. Chris and Lance take turns kissing him and kissing each other, and JC can't decide if it's hotter to watch or be watched.
"Here, baby. Open up." JC turns away from Chris' mouth when he hears Lance's voice close to his ear. He watches as Lance takes a long drag on the joint he holds between long fingers, inhaling the sicklysweet smoke and holding it in his mouth, waiting for JC to draw closer.
It's almost too much, the sensation of Lance and Chris both touching him, the anticipation of where they're going, of what they're going to do. JC breathes in deeply and shudders when Lance's mouth covers his, taking the breath he blows out slowly.
They'd smoked a joint earlier, this way, too, one of them inhaling the smoke, then breathing it into the other's mouth. He melts forward against Lance, and shivers, moans into his mouth when Chris tugs on the chain again, just through his t-shirt, but it still pulls deliciously on the clamps, pinches him just a little tighter, makes his cock throb harder, hotter, makes his head pound with each beat of his heart.
"So fuckin' sexy, Jayce," echoes in his ears, in his head, swirls around through his body. He feels like his body is full of little air bubbles, each one popping, fizzing, maybe like he has champagne inside him, instead of blood. He giggles softly and leans back against Chris, arches his chest against the warm hands covering it, and moans when Lance pulls him back toward him. So much sensation. So much, everywhere.
"C'mere." Chris' voice, and JC turns towards it, away from Lance's mouth, the taste of him all over his lips when he licks them. The smokesweet tang of the pot, the sharper hint of the red wine they'd drunk earlier, and underneath it all, the unmistakable taste of Lance.
He blinks at Chris, smiling widely. Chris smiles back, eyes dark and soft; lifts a hand to JC's face. "Close your eyes," he murmurs, and JC does without hesitation, almost instinctively. With his eyes closed, colours swirl inside his head in giddy circles and it almost feels like he's floating, if not for Lance's hands on his hips, Lance's mouth on his neck, warm and wet.
He feels the silky brush of something against his cheek -- so cool, so soft -- and then it's across his eyes, a slight pressure across his forehead. Chris' fingers are warm against his skin as the blindfold is fastened, and JC leans into the touch, wanting, needing more.
"Pretty boy." Lance's voice is low, rough with the smoke, but it sounds sweet in JC's ears. His hand is warm where he strokes it over JC's face, almost as if he's petting him. JC leans into the touch, makes a low sound, almost a purr, deep in his throat. Behind him? In front of him? Chris, Lance, he doesn't know which one, laughs softly, then warm, damp lips slide over his, opening his mouth, slick tongue stroking inside. He hears a soft *snick* sound and shudders...there's only one thing that makes that noise. The mouth leaves his, leaves him damp and wanting more, and Lance laughs, deep and thunderous, even as soft as it is. "You should always be on a leash, baby. So fucking sexy."
"Mmm. Yeah." Chris now, licking the back of his neck, hair pulled to one side. His collar is tugged, the chain between his nipples is tugged, and JC feels more of the bubbles in his bloodstream pop, one after another as he loses himself in the sensation of dark. touch. black. soft. hot. more.
"Stand up," Lance says, hot and low against his ear, and JC feels hands on him -- all over him, it seems -- stroking him, shifting him, moving him upright, and then he's standing; a warm body behind him, in front of him. Pressed close, so close, and he's tingling all over; inside and outside. A mouth covers his again, a tongue slides between his parted lips -- Chris, it's Chris, JC can taste him as he sucks his tongue -- and Lance -- behind him, that must be Lance behind him -- palms his hips, pulling him back, grinding into him.
"You should see yourself, C," Chris whispers, dragging his mouth across JC's jaw to his ear, "so fucking hot." JC feels a tug on his collar again, and he stumbles forward, Chris there to stop him from falling.
"I'm floating," he giggles softly. "Lighter than air..."
"Higher'n a kite," Lance purrs into his ear, mouth nipping at his earlobe. Warm, warm fingers stroke his chest, worry at the clamps, stroke up under the hem of his shirt. "You look like you should be on your knees, that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my dick... around Chris'...." Those hands delve lower, fingers sliding between his belly and the waistband of his baggy jeans, stroke lightly over his erection. "You like that, don't you, baby?"
Lance always calls him 'baby' when he wears his collar. JC's pretty sure he wouldn't mind being called something else, but they haven't quite gotten there yet.
Yet.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Feels so fucking good." He inches his hips forward towards Lance's touch, and hears Lance chuckle softly as he pulls his hand away. JC's about to protest, but there's another tug on the collar, and he has to concentrate -- hard -- on not losing his footing. A brief hot flicker of panic slices through him, before warm hands grip his shoulders firmly, pushing him down.
"It's ok. Lie back." Chris's voice, and JC hesitates for just a moment; then feels something solid at the back of his knees -- the bed? -- and sinks down onto it.
No, it's not a bed. Not only not the huge one they all share, at Lance's house, but it's not soft enough, exactly, to be a...bed.
"Wha--?" He's confused, but then hands are petting him, stroking him, rubbing him, and JC forgets the confusion, forgets to wonder why he's sitting on a bed-that-isn't-a-bed, and relaxes. Chris -- it tastes like Chris, like Red Bull and vodka, even after the wine -- kisses him, licks and nips at his lips, teasing him. The other mouth -- Lance, oh, God, Lance's mouth -- slides over his neck, his throat, licks along the leather cord holding his pendant on. He shivers as he's pressed backward, feels hands on both sides of him, stroking, touching, making those bubbles inside multiply, divide, conquer.
Hands all over him --only four hands, his brain knows this-- but it feels like so many more, all stroking, kneading, caressing him, his skin. All over his face, his body, and he's helplessly arching towards every touch, craving more. Feels so fucking good. Warm, slick wetness around the fingers on one hand --Chris? Lance? -- sucking on them, a tongue flickering along the tips, between each and every one. Hot breath against his neck, and he turns his head towards it, mouth opening almost unconsciously; and there's the slide of lips against his, teeth nipping at the soft flesh of his mouth. Lance, he thinks, that's Lance again, I can taste him.
He's writhing in place where he sits, overwhelmed by the sensations washing against him, through him, around him. Lance pulls away and JC whimpers, missing the warmth of Lance's mouth, the taste of him against his tongue. He shifts his head slowly, hoping Lance is just teasing him, and sucks on the fingers placed against his mouth. Two musical groans, one low, one high, filter into him.
"Look at him." Chris' voice, so rough now, it actually sounds lower. "Hot." JC smiles around the fingers he's sucking. He's pretty sure they're Lance's. Chris' are smaller, thinner.
"Oh, yeah." Lance wiggles the fingers in JC's mouth. "Open up. I have something else for you to suck."
JC obeys instantly, his stomach tight with arousal, his dick pressing against his jeans, begging for a touch, some friction, something. The fingers are removed, leaving him feeling open, empty, and he shivers, waiting. Above him are the muted sounds of kissing, of tongue gliding slickly against one another. He hears the soft sound of a zipper, and Lance's groan, and then thick, hard flesh fills his mouth; Lance's cock, the tip stickysalty with pre-come.
He hears Lance's softly exhaled breath as he flicks his tongue around the head, lifting a hand to wrap long fingers around the base, guiding him into his mouth, further, deeper still. He reaches for his own cock with the other hand, wanting, needing to be touched, but his fingers are slapped away.
"No."
Chris, voice quiet but firm, and JC drops his hand away.
"Good boy," Lance this time, and JC responds by nipping at his cock, smiling when he hears Lance's low groan.
When the -- bed? whatever -- shifts, JC smiles again, knowing it's Chris. When warm hands settle on his shoulders and slide downward over his chest as heat presses against his back, he moans softly around Lance's cock. Clever fingers stroke over his throat, and rub up and down his chest, shifting position as necessary to tease him and push his arousal higher.
It's the most wonderful sort of torture, JC thinks hazily, vibrating with pleasure. The only thing that might make it better would be if they let him play with his cock, too, but--they said no. So he'll enjoy what he gets and wait to see what comes next.
Lance fists his hands into JC's hair to hold him steady and fucks in and out of his mouth slowly while Chris strokes and teases him. When the sound of fabric rending rises over Lance's soft grunts and moans, JC shivers; cool air licking over his now-exposed chest makes it a full-body shudder. Then the chain is pulled in earnest, Chris' breath hot against JC's neck while he bites and sucks, toying with it, spreading sharp, brighthot sensation all through him.
JC groans as sparks race across his chest as the chain is tugged again and again; he hears Lance moan in response and the thrusts into his mouth increase in speed, in intensity. Lance's fingers are coiled tightly in his hair now, almost viciously; there's splinterpoints of heat all over JC's head, down his neck, along his arms, into his nipples, and it's like electricity is arcing through his body.
"Oh god," Lance breathes, and JC can feel the tension that thrums through his body, can feel it gathering in Lance as the thrusts become harder, faster, more. He can hear the noises Lance is making, knows them by heart, doesn't need to see his face to know that his head is back, throat working as he mutters nonsense words into the room.
"You should see him, Jayce," Chris whispers against his ear, "he's so fucking close to coming. So fucking pretty." His fingers stroke JC's neck, his throat, and JC has to concentrate hard to match Lance's urgent rhythm. When Chris' fingers slide low, lower, lower still and then brush briefly over JC's cock, it's like an electric shock, unexpected and almost too much. He shudders and groans deep and low in his throat, Lance echoing him with a cry, and then JC's swallowing, the taste of Lance inside his mouth, coating his tongue.
Chris kisses him as soon as Lance pulls away, and it's a hot, searing kiss, tongue sweeping through JC's mouth, tasting the sharp flavor still lingering there.
"Your mouth is all swollen, a little bruised looking," he says roughly, lips working again JC's. "You're so sexy like this. Should see yourself. You look like you're born to suck cock." Chris licks across JC's mouth, biting at his lower lip, sucking on it with an obscene, wet suction noise. "Lay back, man. We're gonna make you feel sooo good...make you forget your name."
Chris is shifting behind him, moving, and JC lays back, panting, body humming with excitement, with need. He reaches down again, wanting to just--touch. Pat himself, pet his dick, something. Some sort of pressure because he aches so badly. It's like his belly is a hollow pit of fire, spreading outward, consuming him. More touches to his nipples -- so sensitive now, so hard, aching and tight, the clamps making each pulse of his heart seem to echo there. He wriggles again, feeling cool cotton against his back.
"Mmm...Chris--"
He's being stretched, his arms pulled up over his head, and there're two pairs of hands on him again. Two, twenty, it's really hard to tell, because his mind is drifting in a haze of pot, lust, need, wine, want. Those feelings increase when a thick piece of leather tightens around one wrist.
"You're good, baby." Lance, not Chris. Kissing him, tongue working over his mouth, his throat, licking around the metal clipped to him. "Gonna take the clamps off in a minute...your tits are so pretty right now, all swollen, red...Mmmm..." And Lance licks again, tongue swirling around his flesh, sending shiver after shiver through him.
His other wrist is tied, and the feel of the leather rubbing against his skin makes his belly tighten with anticipation.
"Legs too," murmurs Chris, and JC feels warm hands grasp one foot; then the other, and there's the gentle chafe of soft leather around both ankles. He's stretched out, open, legs slightly spread, able to arch upwards a little into the warm hands that pet him, trail along his skin, touching him not nearly as much as he wants or needs. The hands are followed by a tongue, rough wet strokes along his belly, his armpit, his neck, and back to his nipples, redhot and tight.
Lance, against his mouth, breath hot and wet. "Taking them off now, baby." And the clamps are removed; he gasps at the sensation of blood rushing back into swollen, pinched flesh once more, at the slick sweep of a tongue soothing the throbbing ache.
His body bows upward, soclosesoclosesoclose and it would take almost nothing at this point to come, to just give into the myriad colors and feelings swarming through him, burrowing into him. He's panting softly, fingers curling into his palms, and when he feels two mouths on hot, tight flesh, he growls low, body shaking.
Chris on his left nipple, Lance on his right. Sucking and licking, pausing to kiss in between; JC can hear the wet sounds continue, even when he's not being touched.
He realizes he's almost grateful for the blindfold, because having the dark surround him makes it easier to concentrate on everything else.
"I wish we could take pictures, dude. This is a sight." Chris strokes him again, slowly, then there's a shifting and rustling, and JC groans when Chris straddles him across his upper thighs, just out range to press against his cock. "Pretty, pretty." And his mouth is at JC's nipple again, licking, biting -- oh, GOD, biting! -- teeth and tongue teasing and tormenting the already hard, aching bit of flesh.
Something cool is wiped over his right nipple, not a tongue, so JC isn't sure what it is. The pungent scent of alcohol -- rubbing alcohol, not liquor -- rises up around him, makes his nose sting. "Chris? Um. Lance?"
"Shhh. You're fine." And Chris' fingers are rubbing downward, stroking oh-so-lightly over his erection, then back up, dipping into his navel, mimicking fucking. JC forgets what he wanted to ask.
Until he feels the cool touch of metal against his nipple once more, followed by another stinging pinch. Not the clamps....not this time....the grip isn't as fierce; but it's still enough to make him gasp, to arch upwards instinctively, a coil of panic in his belly.
"Shhh. It's ok." Chris again, fingers still stroking his cock gently, teasing, just enough pressure to make him crave more. "You're ok."
Warm lips against his for a moment -- Lance, mouth moving against his -- the slide of his tongue against the roof of his mouth briefly; JC idly wonders if he can taste himself, and his cock twitches at the thought. "Trust me," Lance breathes, then moves away again, and JC's head whirls as the words sink into his brain. Trust me. Of course he trusts Lance, he has no reason not to....why would Lance need to say that? Trust me. Trust me.
Trust me.
"Hold him still," he hears Lance say, and the coil in his belly unfurls a little, icy tendrils twining along his skin. Chris' hands are on his hips, warm, firm, steady, and he's heavy and solid against JC's thighs.
Whatever it is that's clamped to his nipple is moved slightly, and JC feels warm fingers surrounding it, and underneath it all, the smell. That smell. He frowns, something just out of reach in his head, a thought that dances at the edges of his mind. That smell.
It all comes slamming into him at the first press of the needle, the brightsharp splinter of whitehot pain slicing through his head, racing through him head to toe, a thousand pinpricks of fire spiking into his nipple. He arches upwards helplessly; keening low in his throat, his teeth slicing into his bottom lip, a copperbright rush into his mouth. He's vaguely aware of Chris' voice, but can't make out any of the words over the white noise in his head, the starburst flashes behind his eyes.
Ohfuckohgodohfuckohfuck...
Chris' hands, Lance's hands, all over him again, stroking, soothing, petting, touching. Warm, gentle. Safe. The panic is still there, arcing through him, fizzing in his veins; his heart hammers in his chest and there's not enough air to fill his lungs. "Breathe," he hears Lance say against his ear -- and he's trying, can't Lance see he's trying? -- whooping in great gasps of air that feels too thick, too hot.
"Mmmm...love you, god you're beautiful," Chris is nuzzling his chest, licking very gently around his nipple, though not touching it. JC wants to answer, but he isn't sure he's able, at this point; it's all he can do to get air into his lungs, to force his chest to move.
His face is wet beneath the blindfold, hot tears he didn't realize he'd cried until droplets slide across his lips and he tastes salt.
There's a tugging at his nipple that sends fire arcing through him again, and JC --screams? he's not sure what he'd call it. Something hoarse and rough, sound ripped from his throat. Another tug, and he realizes Lance is settling the ring. I wonder what it looks like. Just the thought makes him quiver. I have a nipple ring. Oh, god. A ring.... He groans softly, and Chris pets him again, strokes his other nipple, rubs his chest, rubs against his cock.
JC's shocked to realize he's still partially hard, getting harder, the longer Chris rubs and strokes.
"We're doing the other one, too," Lance whispers in his ear, tongue flicking out, touching wetly to the lobe. JC shudders, his breath catching again, the weight of burninghotstingingaching spreading from the already-pierced nipple outward.
"Pretty," Chris says softly, shifting so he's more laying than straddling JC, lips ghosting breath just above the ringed nipple. JC shudders and closes his eyes beneath the blindfold.
"God, please, don't touch it--" He's too late pleading though; Chris brushes the slightest of kisses across it, lips just grazing the ring that shifts, sends lightning sparking through him. He arches upward, crying out softly, and rubs upward as Chris grinds down. Sparks of a different sort fill him, mingling with the pain that's faded enough to become tolerable, to become a warm, redwhite glow at the center of his chest. JC whimpers and rubs again, writhing beneath Chris' warm, sturdy weight. It's too much, not enough, all of it overwhelming--
I want more. I want...want...ohgod...
"Can you do it like this?" The words are low-pitched, not meant for him, which is fine. He hears them, understands the words, if not the actual thought behind them. JC giggles once, a strange feeling sliding through him. Swirls of color inside him mix with the ones behind his eyes, behind the black, and he relaxes back against the table, even while he shivers.
Trust me.
"I think so, yeah." The sharp scent of alcohol makes him stiffen again, but Chris kisses him, hot and hungry, and JC loses himself in the taste, in the knowledge that Chris is still hard against him, cock stiff and pulsing, even through two layers of denim. And he wants it, oh so bad. Wants to be fucked, be filled, be pierced--inside, outside, feel everything merging into one huge coil of pleasurepain.
"I'll fuck you afterward, Jayce," Chris murmurs against his mouth, licking the words into his skin. How did he know? Does he read my mind now? "You're talking out loud, dude," and this time the voice is soft with amusement, though no less hoarse, hunger making the usually thin, pure chords of Chris' voice rough and jagged.
"Mmmm." He arches upward again when Lance pinches and pulls, rubbing a thumb over his unadorned nipple, making it swell. JC can feel Chris, can feel Lance, can feel the heat of the two of them deep inside him. It's holding him, burning him, and he's lost in it. "Do it...please..."
"Fuck--" He doesn't even know which one of them says it, just waits, breath still within him, though he's moving, shifting under and against Chris. And then there's the cool prick and heat slams into him again, huge and immobile, crushing him down, lifting him up, swelling through him like a tidal wave. So much, too much, not enough, oh, god, he could lose himself in this, in the way it burns and pinches and grabs him, throws him down--
And he grinds upward, hard, shoving his dick against Chris', hardly feeling the slide and burn of denim rubbing him raw, his mind exploding with sensation as he comes, red and white dancing with the black cradling him.
Voices come into focus, slowly, gradually; -- Chris, Lance -- one, the other, both of them. He listens to their words, the rhythm of them, the way the sound dances along his skin, over him, into him. All around him is sensation, waves of pure sound, the raw scent of the three of them, the taste of them both on his lips, and their hands all over him once more.
All over him, touching, gliding over his skin. Bringing him back down, gently, softly. Warm. Safe.
A mouth on his -- Lance, his tongue hot and slick-- and JC sucks on it, tasting him once more, taking him in. Hands on his hips again, lifting them gently, undoing his jeans and sliding them down, rough strokes of a tongue across his belly, over his still-throbbing cock, licking him clean.
He's moaning and squirming by the time Chris finishes his tongue-bath, the euphoric feeling only increased, not diminished. While Chris licked and sucked him clean, and hard again, Lance undid the ankle and wrist restraints, rubbing until JC could feel the throbbing, pounding beat of his pulse everywhere again.
"Raise your head, baby." Fingers scrabble gently in his hair for the knot to the blindfold, and JC shakes his head, shifting restlessly.
"No...please...leave it on? Just--a little longer?" He wants to keep this darkness with its multicolored prisms all around him just a while longer. Wants to feel Chris fucking him, and not lose any of the sensation. Wants to pull it deep inside him, wallow in it, be filled completely. "Please...please..."
His answer is a long, deep kiss while Chris shifts between his legs, pushing him wide-open, fingers slick and cool as they slide into him. JC groans long and low, the sound pushed up out of him, amplified when Lance nuzzles at his chest, blowing warm breath over his tingling, aching nipples.
"More," he moans softly, whimpering when Chris slides his fingers back out, just in long enough to slick him up a bit, not really for foreplay. He's had an hour, a year, a lifetime of foreplay tonight. He's never been so ready to be fucked in his entire life.
Then it's Chris over him, in him, dick hard and thick, opening him, filling him, piercing him at the same time Lance takes one ring into his mouth, gently...so gently, wringing a thin, breathy cry from JC as he arches upward, body throbbing and aching all over. He's one giant mass of sensation, nerve endings raw and open, feeling skittering all over him until his skin is crawling, vibrating, alive with it.
JC raises his legs and locks them around Chris' waist, rocking up into him, body shaking with overload. Chris' mouth is warm against his, Lance's even warmer as it torments...pleasures...his aching, abused flesh. He's not entirely sure he's not dreaming this, and if he is, he's not sure he wants to wake up. The feeling of floating just beyond himself while he pulsates and throbs and sees things in a rainbow of colors...what could compare to that?
Until Chris growls low and shifts back, pushing his legs up, nearly bending him in half to pound hard and fast into him. JC arches, cries out, comes again while Chris empties into him, thick hot pulses that seem to burn almost as much as the rings he's now wearing.
"Fuck," Lance breathes, low and hot against JC's mouth, "so fucking hot, Jayce." He slides his fingers into JC's mouth, and JC sucks on them, bites them hungrily. He feels Chris shifting, whimpers a little as he slides out, but then there's a slick tongue stroking along his belly, cleaning him once more.
"You taste so good," murmurs Chris, and when he moves his mouth over his cock, lapping gently along the length of it, JC arches upwards once more, shuddering and pulsing with leftover sensation, body tight and thrumming. He's almost sobbing, helpless to stop the sounds that slip from between his lips, the sparks that race along his skin, inside his head.
Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch....
The blindfold is slipped from his eyes, and the colours of the room slam into him, too much, too bright, all at once; he blinks, his hands raising instinctively to protect himself from the overload.
"Hey, it's ok. Hey." Chris, warm fingers stroking his face, pulling him close. Calming him, holding him until the hammering in his chest has eased, until his breathing slows and he can get enough air into his lungs once more. JC breathes against his neck, taking in the scent of him, feels himself relax against Chris' chest.
He turns his head, and Lance is there, green eyes focused intently on him. "You ok?"
JC nods, and smiles, opening his mouth when Lance kisses him; bites his lower lip gently.
"You were incredible, Jayce." Lance breaks the kiss, brushes one across JC's forehead before leaning over to kiss Chris.
"I. God. I can't--it's." He stops, tongue thick in his mouth. The words won't come; he's not even sure they're in his head right now. He can't really think in coherent thoughts; everything is still being processed in terms of how it feels, how it looks, what colors it is. His entire body tingles, like he's been electrified. Maybe I have been. He glances down for the first time, sees two small silver rings, one in each nipple. Both are swollen, red, and they ache, but it's a dull, throbbing feeling now. Not the sharp, splintering pain of earlier, nor the mind-numbing, body-wide fire-and-ice pleasure of a little while ago.
"They're marked," Chris says softly, tilting JC's head back a little so he can speak softly in his ear. "The bead on the left one has an 'L'. The bead on the right has a 'C'." Another gentle kiss from Chris, then from Lance. "You're ours."
He can't sort out the feelings that clench his stomach, that make his blood bubble and fizzle, can only whisper, "yours."
"Let's get him to bed." Lance shifts under his arm, waiting 'til Chris moves to the same position before standing him up. JC can't really help, his arms and legs feel like rubber. Or spaghetti. He's so happy and so tired and so many other things that require a lot more thought before he can articulate them. "C'mon, baby. Help us a little, hmm?"
It's only a half-dozen actual steps down the hallway; they never even left Lance's house, only walked him around a bit to confuse him. And it only takes a few minutes for Lance to wipe him down gently with a cool cloth, while Chris gets him a bottle of water, and then he's tucked into bed, one man to either side of him.
JC's last thought before he gives in to the exhaustion creeping up on him is that he doesn't think needles will ever hold quite the same fear for him as they used to.
~finis~
jchalo on AIM. JC/Chris/Lance [NC-17] -warning for mild D/S
Jeans and a t-shirt land on his lap and JC looks up from his notebook, frowning. Chris and Lance both stand there, small smiles tugging at the corners of their mouths. Chris' eyes sparkle like he has a secret. Actually, Lance's do, too -- though not as much.
"Uh, guys?" He closes the notebook, sets his pencil down beside it. "What's up?"
"Get dressed, dude. We're going out." Chris rocks back on his heels while Lance stands quietly. JC glances between both of them, then shakes his head.
"Don't really want to, guys. I wanna try and finish this--" He breaks off when Lance draws a slender black strip of leather from his pocket. JC doesn't need to see more than that to know it also has a small silver buckle and two silver D rings. He swallows. "Um."
"Kneel down, baby." Oh, god. It's that voice. JC shivers lightly and slips from his chair to the floor. Lance's fingers are only slightly cooler than the leather being settled around his neck. "God, I love seeing you wear this." He strokes his fingers through the long tangle of JC's hair, then cups his chin. "We have a surprise for you tonight."
"What." He stops and swallows; this is still new enough it always makes his stomach clench, makes his pulse pound. "What kind of surprise?"
"The kind you'll like, dude." Chris moves behind him and pets his neck, leans down to lick along the side, biting down gently on the big vein throbbing on the side of it. JC groans softly, then louder when Chris and Lance draw him upright, sandwiching him between them to touch and pet and caress.
Lance moves away, for a moment, reaches back into his pocket. "You can wear these too." JC hears the soft metallic clink, the gentle rattle of the chain, and draws in a breath at the sight of the clamps in Lance's hand.
Chris' hands are warm as he runs them up JC's sides, fingers softly curving around his ribs, then gliding gently over his nipples; teasing, flicking at the sensitive nubs of skin, before he leans down to sweep his tongue around them, licking, sucking. JC gasps softly and twines his fingers in Chris' hair, breath catching in his throat at the feeling of gentle suction, already anticipating the stingsharp pinch of the clamps.
Chris bites both nipples gently in turn, tongue working to soothe the hot, tight skin almost instantly. JC moans into Lance's mouth, heat uncoiling through him with the blood that pounds in his head, behind his eyes.
"Ready?" Lance asks as he moves away, and JC nods, teeth clamping down on his lower lip, steeling himself for the sharp bite of metal into swollen, erect flesh. Lance's fingers are warm and firm either side of his nipple; then there's the white-hot flash of pain as the clamp is attatched, and JC closes his eyes against the rush of adrenaline that floods through him, radiating outwards from his nipple in hot, spiky pulses. "One more," Lance murmurs, and JC draws in another breath as Chris' mouth covers his, tongue sliding past his lips, hot, wet, urgent.
Another stinging bite as the second clamp is put in place, and then a rush of sensation as Lance tugs gently on the chain between the two pieces of metal. Wild heat, racing across his chest, along his arms, and settling in the pit of his belly. He's half-hard already, and he groans low in his
throat and thrusts his hips against Chris.
"Slow down," Chris says, and JC can feel his lips curved into a smile against his. "We gotta get you dressed yet." He pushes JC back gently, gives the chain another little tug, grinning when JC snarls softly at him.
He dresses while they watch, his belly already tight with anticipation, the constant stroke and touch of their hands on his skin only increasing the slow burn of arousal. Chris and Lance take turns kissing him and kissing each other, and JC can't decide if it's hotter to watch or be watched.
"Here, baby. Open up." JC turns away from Chris' mouth when he hears Lance's voice close to his ear. He watches as Lance takes a long drag on the joint he holds between long fingers, inhaling the sicklysweet smoke and holding it in his mouth, waiting for JC to draw closer.
It's almost too much, the sensation of Lance and Chris both touching him, the anticipation of where they're going, of what they're going to do. JC breathes in deeply and shudders when Lance's mouth covers his, taking the breath he blows out slowly.
They'd smoked a joint earlier, this way, too, one of them inhaling the smoke, then breathing it into the other's mouth. He melts forward against Lance, and shivers, moans into his mouth when Chris tugs on the chain again, just through his t-shirt, but it still pulls deliciously on the clamps, pinches him just a little tighter, makes his cock throb harder, hotter, makes his head pound with each beat of his heart.
"So fuckin' sexy, Jayce," echoes in his ears, in his head, swirls around through his body. He feels like his body is full of little air bubbles, each one popping, fizzing, maybe like he has champagne inside him, instead of blood. He giggles softly and leans back against Chris, arches his chest against the warm hands covering it, and moans when Lance pulls him back toward him. So much sensation. So much, everywhere.
"C'mere." Chris' voice, and JC turns towards it, away from Lance's mouth, the taste of him all over his lips when he licks them. The smokesweet tang of the pot, the sharper hint of the red wine they'd drunk earlier, and underneath it all, the unmistakable taste of Lance.
He blinks at Chris, smiling widely. Chris smiles back, eyes dark and soft; lifts a hand to JC's face. "Close your eyes," he murmurs, and JC does without hesitation, almost instinctively. With his eyes closed, colours swirl inside his head in giddy circles and it almost feels like he's floating, if not for Lance's hands on his hips, Lance's mouth on his neck, warm and wet.
He feels the silky brush of something against his cheek -- so cool, so soft -- and then it's across his eyes, a slight pressure across his forehead. Chris' fingers are warm against his skin as the blindfold is fastened, and JC leans into the touch, wanting, needing more.
"Pretty boy." Lance's voice is low, rough with the smoke, but it sounds sweet in JC's ears. His hand is warm where he strokes it over JC's face, almost as if he's petting him. JC leans into the touch, makes a low sound, almost a purr, deep in his throat. Behind him? In front of him? Chris, Lance, he doesn't know which one, laughs softly, then warm, damp lips slide over his, opening his mouth, slick tongue stroking inside. He hears a soft *snick* sound and shudders...there's only one thing that makes that noise. The mouth leaves his, leaves him damp and wanting more, and Lance laughs, deep and thunderous, even as soft as it is. "You should always be on a leash, baby. So fucking sexy."
"Mmm. Yeah." Chris now, licking the back of his neck, hair pulled to one side. His collar is tugged, the chain between his nipples is tugged, and JC feels more of the bubbles in his bloodstream pop, one after another as he loses himself in the sensation of dark. touch. black. soft. hot. more.
"Stand up," Lance says, hot and low against his ear, and JC feels hands on him -- all over him, it seems -- stroking him, shifting him, moving him upright, and then he's standing; a warm body behind him, in front of him. Pressed close, so close, and he's tingling all over; inside and outside. A mouth covers his again, a tongue slides between his parted lips -- Chris, it's Chris, JC can taste him as he sucks his tongue -- and Lance -- behind him, that must be Lance behind him -- palms his hips, pulling him back, grinding into him.
"You should see yourself, C," Chris whispers, dragging his mouth across JC's jaw to his ear, "so fucking hot." JC feels a tug on his collar again, and he stumbles forward, Chris there to stop him from falling.
"I'm floating," he giggles softly. "Lighter than air..."
"Higher'n a kite," Lance purrs into his ear, mouth nipping at his earlobe. Warm, warm fingers stroke his chest, worry at the clamps, stroke up under the hem of his shirt. "You look like you should be on your knees, that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my dick... around Chris'...." Those hands delve lower, fingers sliding between his belly and the waistband of his baggy jeans, stroke lightly over his erection. "You like that, don't you, baby?"
Lance always calls him 'baby' when he wears his collar. JC's pretty sure he wouldn't mind being called something else, but they haven't quite gotten there yet.
Yet.
"Yeah," he breathes. "Feels so fucking good." He inches his hips forward towards Lance's touch, and hears Lance chuckle softly as he pulls his hand away. JC's about to protest, but there's another tug on the collar, and he has to concentrate -- hard -- on not losing his footing. A brief hot flicker of panic slices through him, before warm hands grip his shoulders firmly, pushing him down.
"It's ok. Lie back." Chris's voice, and JC hesitates for just a moment; then feels something solid at the back of his knees -- the bed? -- and sinks down onto it.
No, it's not a bed. Not only not the huge one they all share, at Lance's house, but it's not soft enough, exactly, to be a...bed.
"Wha--?" He's confused, but then hands are petting him, stroking him, rubbing him, and JC forgets the confusion, forgets to wonder why he's sitting on a bed-that-isn't-a-bed, and relaxes. Chris -- it tastes like Chris, like Red Bull and vodka, even after the wine -- kisses him, licks and nips at his lips, teasing him. The other mouth -- Lance, oh, God, Lance's mouth -- slides over his neck, his throat, licks along the leather cord holding his pendant on. He shivers as he's pressed backward, feels hands on both sides of him, stroking, touching, making those bubbles inside multiply, divide, conquer.
Hands all over him --only four hands, his brain knows this-- but it feels like so many more, all stroking, kneading, caressing him, his skin. All over his face, his body, and he's helplessly arching towards every touch, craving more. Feels so fucking good. Warm, slick wetness around the fingers on one hand --Chris? Lance? -- sucking on them, a tongue flickering along the tips, between each and every one. Hot breath against his neck, and he turns his head towards it, mouth opening almost unconsciously; and there's the slide of lips against his, teeth nipping at the soft flesh of his mouth. Lance, he thinks, that's Lance again, I can taste him.
He's writhing in place where he sits, overwhelmed by the sensations washing against him, through him, around him. Lance pulls away and JC whimpers, missing the warmth of Lance's mouth, the taste of him against his tongue. He shifts his head slowly, hoping Lance is just teasing him, and sucks on the fingers placed against his mouth. Two musical groans, one low, one high, filter into him.
"Look at him." Chris' voice, so rough now, it actually sounds lower. "Hot." JC smiles around the fingers he's sucking. He's pretty sure they're Lance's. Chris' are smaller, thinner.
"Oh, yeah." Lance wiggles the fingers in JC's mouth. "Open up. I have something else for you to suck."
JC obeys instantly, his stomach tight with arousal, his dick pressing against his jeans, begging for a touch, some friction, something. The fingers are removed, leaving him feeling open, empty, and he shivers, waiting. Above him are the muted sounds of kissing, of tongue gliding slickly against one another. He hears the soft sound of a zipper, and Lance's groan, and then thick, hard flesh fills his mouth; Lance's cock, the tip stickysalty with pre-come.
He hears Lance's softly exhaled breath as he flicks his tongue around the head, lifting a hand to wrap long fingers around the base, guiding him into his mouth, further, deeper still. He reaches for his own cock with the other hand, wanting, needing to be touched, but his fingers are slapped away.
"No."
Chris, voice quiet but firm, and JC drops his hand away.
"Good boy," Lance this time, and JC responds by nipping at his cock, smiling when he hears Lance's low groan.
When the -- bed? whatever -- shifts, JC smiles again, knowing it's Chris. When warm hands settle on his shoulders and slide downward over his chest as heat presses against his back, he moans softly around Lance's cock. Clever fingers stroke over his throat, and rub up and down his chest, shifting position as necessary to tease him and push his arousal higher.
It's the most wonderful sort of torture, JC thinks hazily, vibrating with pleasure. The only thing that might make it better would be if they let him play with his cock, too, but--they said no. So he'll enjoy what he gets and wait to see what comes next.
Lance fists his hands into JC's hair to hold him steady and fucks in and out of his mouth slowly while Chris strokes and teases him. When the sound of fabric rending rises over Lance's soft grunts and moans, JC shivers; cool air licking over his now-exposed chest makes it a full-body shudder. Then the chain is pulled in earnest, Chris' breath hot against JC's neck while he bites and sucks, toying with it, spreading sharp, brighthot sensation all through him.
JC groans as sparks race across his chest as the chain is tugged again and again; he hears Lance moan in response and the thrusts into his mouth increase in speed, in intensity. Lance's fingers are coiled tightly in his hair now, almost viciously; there's splinterpoints of heat all over JC's head, down his neck, along his arms, into his nipples, and it's like electricity is arcing through his body.
"Oh god," Lance breathes, and JC can feel the tension that thrums through his body, can feel it gathering in Lance as the thrusts become harder, faster, more. He can hear the noises Lance is making, knows them by heart, doesn't need to see his face to know that his head is back, throat working as he mutters nonsense words into the room.
"You should see him, Jayce," Chris whispers against his ear, "he's so fucking close to coming. So fucking pretty." His fingers stroke JC's neck, his throat, and JC has to concentrate hard to match Lance's urgent rhythm. When Chris' fingers slide low, lower, lower still and then brush briefly over JC's cock, it's like an electric shock, unexpected and almost too much. He shudders and groans deep and low in his throat, Lance echoing him with a cry, and then JC's swallowing, the taste of Lance inside his mouth, coating his tongue.
Chris kisses him as soon as Lance pulls away, and it's a hot, searing kiss, tongue sweeping through JC's mouth, tasting the sharp flavor still lingering there.
"Your mouth is all swollen, a little bruised looking," he says roughly, lips working again JC's. "You're so sexy like this. Should see yourself. You look like you're born to suck cock." Chris licks across JC's mouth, biting at his lower lip, sucking on it with an obscene, wet suction noise. "Lay back, man. We're gonna make you feel sooo good...make you forget your name."
Chris is shifting behind him, moving, and JC lays back, panting, body humming with excitement, with need. He reaches down again, wanting to just--touch. Pat himself, pet his dick, something. Some sort of pressure because he aches so badly. It's like his belly is a hollow pit of fire, spreading outward, consuming him. More touches to his nipples -- so sensitive now, so hard, aching and tight, the clamps making each pulse of his heart seem to echo there. He wriggles again, feeling cool cotton against his back.
"Mmm...Chris--"
He's being stretched, his arms pulled up over his head, and there're two pairs of hands on him again. Two, twenty, it's really hard to tell, because his mind is drifting in a haze of pot, lust, need, wine, want. Those feelings increase when a thick piece of leather tightens around one wrist.
"You're good, baby." Lance, not Chris. Kissing him, tongue working over his mouth, his throat, licking around the metal clipped to him. "Gonna take the clamps off in a minute...your tits are so pretty right now, all swollen, red...Mmmm..." And Lance licks again, tongue swirling around his flesh, sending shiver after shiver through him.
His other wrist is tied, and the feel of the leather rubbing against his skin makes his belly tighten with anticipation.
"Legs too," murmurs Chris, and JC feels warm hands grasp one foot; then the other, and there's the gentle chafe of soft leather around both ankles. He's stretched out, open, legs slightly spread, able to arch upwards a little into the warm hands that pet him, trail along his skin, touching him not nearly as much as he wants or needs. The hands are followed by a tongue, rough wet strokes along his belly, his armpit, his neck, and back to his nipples, redhot and tight.
Lance, against his mouth, breath hot and wet. "Taking them off now, baby." And the clamps are removed; he gasps at the sensation of blood rushing back into swollen, pinched flesh once more, at the slick sweep of a tongue soothing the throbbing ache.
His body bows upward, soclosesoclosesoclose and it would take almost nothing at this point to come, to just give into the myriad colors and feelings swarming through him, burrowing into him. He's panting softly, fingers curling into his palms, and when he feels two mouths on hot, tight flesh, he growls low, body shaking.
Chris on his left nipple, Lance on his right. Sucking and licking, pausing to kiss in between; JC can hear the wet sounds continue, even when he's not being touched.
He realizes he's almost grateful for the blindfold, because having the dark surround him makes it easier to concentrate on everything else.
"I wish we could take pictures, dude. This is a sight." Chris strokes him again, slowly, then there's a shifting and rustling, and JC groans when Chris straddles him across his upper thighs, just out range to press against his cock. "Pretty, pretty." And his mouth is at JC's nipple again, licking, biting -- oh, GOD, biting! -- teeth and tongue teasing and tormenting the already hard, aching bit of flesh.
Something cool is wiped over his right nipple, not a tongue, so JC isn't sure what it is. The pungent scent of alcohol -- rubbing alcohol, not liquor -- rises up around him, makes his nose sting. "Chris? Um. Lance?"
"Shhh. You're fine." And Chris' fingers are rubbing downward, stroking oh-so-lightly over his erection, then back up, dipping into his navel, mimicking fucking. JC forgets what he wanted to ask.
Until he feels the cool touch of metal against his nipple once more, followed by another stinging pinch. Not the clamps....not this time....the grip isn't as fierce; but it's still enough to make him gasp, to arch upwards instinctively, a coil of panic in his belly.
"Shhh. It's ok." Chris again, fingers still stroking his cock gently, teasing, just enough pressure to make him crave more. "You're ok."
Warm lips against his for a moment -- Lance, mouth moving against his -- the slide of his tongue against the roof of his mouth briefly; JC idly wonders if he can taste himself, and his cock twitches at the thought. "Trust me," Lance breathes, then moves away again, and JC's head whirls as the words sink into his brain. Trust me. Of course he trusts Lance, he has no reason not to....why would Lance need to say that? Trust me. Trust me.
Trust me.
"Hold him still," he hears Lance say, and the coil in his belly unfurls a little, icy tendrils twining along his skin. Chris' hands are on his hips, warm, firm, steady, and he's heavy and solid against JC's thighs.
Whatever it is that's clamped to his nipple is moved slightly, and JC feels warm fingers surrounding it, and underneath it all, the smell. That smell. He frowns, something just out of reach in his head, a thought that dances at the edges of his mind. That smell.
It all comes slamming into him at the first press of the needle, the brightsharp splinter of whitehot pain slicing through his head, racing through him head to toe, a thousand pinpricks of fire spiking into his nipple. He arches upwards helplessly; keening low in his throat, his teeth slicing into his bottom lip, a copperbright rush into his mouth. He's vaguely aware of Chris' voice, but can't make out any of the words over the white noise in his head, the starburst flashes behind his eyes.
Ohfuckohgodohfuckohfuck...
Chris' hands, Lance's hands, all over him again, stroking, soothing, petting, touching. Warm, gentle. Safe. The panic is still there, arcing through him, fizzing in his veins; his heart hammers in his chest and there's not enough air to fill his lungs. "Breathe," he hears Lance say against his ear -- and he's trying, can't Lance see he's trying? -- whooping in great gasps of air that feels too thick, too hot.
"Mmmm...love you, god you're beautiful," Chris is nuzzling his chest, licking very gently around his nipple, though not touching it. JC wants to answer, but he isn't sure he's able, at this point; it's all he can do to get air into his lungs, to force his chest to move.
His face is wet beneath the blindfold, hot tears he didn't realize he'd cried until droplets slide across his lips and he tastes salt.
There's a tugging at his nipple that sends fire arcing through him again, and JC --screams? he's not sure what he'd call it. Something hoarse and rough, sound ripped from his throat. Another tug, and he realizes Lance is settling the ring. I wonder what it looks like. Just the thought makes him quiver. I have a nipple ring. Oh, god. A ring.... He groans softly, and Chris pets him again, strokes his other nipple, rubs his chest, rubs against his cock.
JC's shocked to realize he's still partially hard, getting harder, the longer Chris rubs and strokes.
"We're doing the other one, too," Lance whispers in his ear, tongue flicking out, touching wetly to the lobe. JC shudders, his breath catching again, the weight of burninghotstingingaching spreading from the already-pierced nipple outward.
"Pretty," Chris says softly, shifting so he's more laying than straddling JC, lips ghosting breath just above the ringed nipple. JC shudders and closes his eyes beneath the blindfold.
"God, please, don't touch it--" He's too late pleading though; Chris brushes the slightest of kisses across it, lips just grazing the ring that shifts, sends lightning sparking through him. He arches upward, crying out softly, and rubs upward as Chris grinds down. Sparks of a different sort fill him, mingling with the pain that's faded enough to become tolerable, to become a warm, redwhite glow at the center of his chest. JC whimpers and rubs again, writhing beneath Chris' warm, sturdy weight. It's too much, not enough, all of it overwhelming--
I want more. I want...want...ohgod...
"Can you do it like this?" The words are low-pitched, not meant for him, which is fine. He hears them, understands the words, if not the actual thought behind them. JC giggles once, a strange feeling sliding through him. Swirls of color inside him mix with the ones behind his eyes, behind the black, and he relaxes back against the table, even while he shivers.
Trust me.
"I think so, yeah." The sharp scent of alcohol makes him stiffen again, but Chris kisses him, hot and hungry, and JC loses himself in the taste, in the knowledge that Chris is still hard against him, cock stiff and pulsing, even through two layers of denim. And he wants it, oh so bad. Wants to be fucked, be filled, be pierced--inside, outside, feel everything merging into one huge coil of pleasurepain.
"I'll fuck you afterward, Jayce," Chris murmurs against his mouth, licking the words into his skin. How did he know? Does he read my mind now? "You're talking out loud, dude," and this time the voice is soft with amusement, though no less hoarse, hunger making the usually thin, pure chords of Chris' voice rough and jagged.
"Mmmm." He arches upward again when Lance pinches and pulls, rubbing a thumb over his unadorned nipple, making it swell. JC can feel Chris, can feel Lance, can feel the heat of the two of them deep inside him. It's holding him, burning him, and he's lost in it. "Do it...please..."
"Fuck--" He doesn't even know which one of them says it, just waits, breath still within him, though he's moving, shifting under and against Chris. And then there's the cool prick and heat slams into him again, huge and immobile, crushing him down, lifting him up, swelling through him like a tidal wave. So much, too much, not enough, oh, god, he could lose himself in this, in the way it burns and pinches and grabs him, throws him down--
And he grinds upward, hard, shoving his dick against Chris', hardly feeling the slide and burn of denim rubbing him raw, his mind exploding with sensation as he comes, red and white dancing with the black cradling him.
Voices come into focus, slowly, gradually; -- Chris, Lance -- one, the other, both of them. He listens to their words, the rhythm of them, the way the sound dances along his skin, over him, into him. All around him is sensation, waves of pure sound, the raw scent of the three of them, the taste of them both on his lips, and their hands all over him once more.
All over him, touching, gliding over his skin. Bringing him back down, gently, softly. Warm. Safe.
A mouth on his -- Lance, his tongue hot and slick-- and JC sucks on it, tasting him once more, taking him in. Hands on his hips again, lifting them gently, undoing his jeans and sliding them down, rough strokes of a tongue across his belly, over his still-throbbing cock, licking him clean.
He's moaning and squirming by the time Chris finishes his tongue-bath, the euphoric feeling only increased, not diminished. While Chris licked and sucked him clean, and hard again, Lance undid the ankle and wrist restraints, rubbing until JC could feel the throbbing, pounding beat of his pulse everywhere again.
"Raise your head, baby." Fingers scrabble gently in his hair for the knot to the blindfold, and JC shakes his head, shifting restlessly.
"No...please...leave it on? Just--a little longer?" He wants to keep this darkness with its multicolored prisms all around him just a while longer. Wants to feel Chris fucking him, and not lose any of the sensation. Wants to pull it deep inside him, wallow in it, be filled completely. "Please...please..."
His answer is a long, deep kiss while Chris shifts between his legs, pushing him wide-open, fingers slick and cool as they slide into him. JC groans long and low, the sound pushed up out of him, amplified when Lance nuzzles at his chest, blowing warm breath over his tingling, aching nipples.
"More," he moans softly, whimpering when Chris slides his fingers back out, just in long enough to slick him up a bit, not really for foreplay. He's had an hour, a year, a lifetime of foreplay tonight. He's never been so ready to be fucked in his entire life.
Then it's Chris over him, in him, dick hard and thick, opening him, filling him, piercing him at the same time Lance takes one ring into his mouth, gently...so gently, wringing a thin, breathy cry from JC as he arches upward, body throbbing and aching all over. He's one giant mass of sensation, nerve endings raw and open, feeling skittering all over him until his skin is crawling, vibrating, alive with it.
JC raises his legs and locks them around Chris' waist, rocking up into him, body shaking with overload. Chris' mouth is warm against his, Lance's even warmer as it torments...pleasures...his aching, abused flesh. He's not entirely sure he's not dreaming this, and if he is, he's not sure he wants to wake up. The feeling of floating just beyond himself while he pulsates and throbs and sees things in a rainbow of colors...what could compare to that?
Until Chris growls low and shifts back, pushing his legs up, nearly bending him in half to pound hard and fast into him. JC arches, cries out, comes again while Chris empties into him, thick hot pulses that seem to burn almost as much as the rings he's now wearing.
"Fuck," Lance breathes, low and hot against JC's mouth, "so fucking hot, Jayce." He slides his fingers into JC's mouth, and JC sucks on them, bites them hungrily. He feels Chris shifting, whimpers a little as he slides out, but then there's a slick tongue stroking along his belly, cleaning him once more.
"You taste so good," murmurs Chris, and when he moves his mouth over his cock, lapping gently along the length of it, JC arches upwards once more, shuddering and pulsing with leftover sensation, body tight and thrumming. He's almost sobbing, helpless to stop the sounds that slip from between his lips, the sparks that race along his skin, inside his head.
Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch....
The blindfold is slipped from his eyes, and the colours of the room slam into him, too much, too bright, all at once; he blinks, his hands raising instinctively to protect himself from the overload.
"Hey, it's ok. Hey." Chris, warm fingers stroking his face, pulling him close. Calming him, holding him until the hammering in his chest has eased, until his breathing slows and he can get enough air into his lungs once more. JC breathes against his neck, taking in the scent of him, feels himself relax against Chris' chest.
He turns his head, and Lance is there, green eyes focused intently on him. "You ok?"
JC nods, and smiles, opening his mouth when Lance kisses him; bites his lower lip gently.
"You were incredible, Jayce." Lance breaks the kiss, brushes one across JC's forehead before leaning over to kiss Chris.
"I. God. I can't--it's." He stops, tongue thick in his mouth. The words won't come; he's not even sure they're in his head right now. He can't really think in coherent thoughts; everything is still being processed in terms of how it feels, how it looks, what colors it is. His entire body tingles, like he's been electrified. Maybe I have been. He glances down for the first time, sees two small silver rings, one in each nipple. Both are swollen, red, and they ache, but it's a dull, throbbing feeling now. Not the sharp, splintering pain of earlier, nor the mind-numbing, body-wide fire-and-ice pleasure of a little while ago.
"They're marked," Chris says softly, tilting JC's head back a little so he can speak softly in his ear. "The bead on the left one has an 'L'. The bead on the right has a 'C'." Another gentle kiss from Chris, then from Lance. "You're ours."
He can't sort out the feelings that clench his stomach, that make his blood bubble and fizzle, can only whisper, "yours."
"Let's get him to bed." Lance shifts under his arm, waiting 'til Chris moves to the same position before standing him up. JC can't really help, his arms and legs feel like rubber. Or spaghetti. He's so happy and so tired and so many other things that require a lot more thought before he can articulate them. "C'mon, baby. Help us a little, hmm?"
It's only a half-dozen actual steps down the hallway; they never even left Lance's house, only walked him around a bit to confuse him. And it only takes a few minutes for Lance to wipe him down gently with a cool cloth, while Chris gets him a bottle of water, and then he's tucked into bed, one man to either side of him.
JC's last thought before he gives in to the exhaustion creeping up on him is that he doesn't think needles will ever hold quite the same fear for him as they used to.
~finis~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 12:49 am (UTC)And, okay, TMI alert, but--I'm so not a sub, but you make me understand it. You make me feel it, believe it, even maybealittle crave it.
Wow.
no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 07:39 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-11-16 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 02:43 am (UTC)Hmmm. Also, listening to the tracks where you can most clearly hear Lance while reading this.
I think maybe a cup of tea and a nice lie down.
not that kind of lie down
no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 07:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 07:41 am (UTC)Gulp
Re: Gulp
Date: 2002-11-16 09:57 am (UTC)Love my boys! :-)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 11:29 am (UTC)::shivers:: I'm blown away. So fucking hot. What amazing feelings you're able to create here. You had me right. there. with them every step of the way. And I loved how you really created the feeling of newness here within the old, loving relationships. How they're all made for their roles but still settling into them, not experts yet. Fantastic.
Lucky, lucky JC.
no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 01:29 pm (UTC)I'm so glad you liked the story, that it had the impact on you that it had. *happy bounce* It's an incredible compliment to be told the story had you right there with the character, so I'm all big grins over here :-) Thanks so much for letting me know you enjoyed it!
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Date: 2002-11-16 12:29 pm (UTC)I want to have a million of halo and kim's babies, la la la
*wanders out*
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Date: 2002-11-16 01:31 pm (UTC)*kisses* thanks :-)
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Date: 2002-11-16 12:36 pm (UTC)I would like to just state for the record that you have killed me. I am now talking to you from the grave. I would also like to let everyone know that yes, it is possible to be killed by smut.
Thank you and goodnight.
no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 01:32 pm (UTC)Thanks, hon. Glad you enjoyed the story :-)
Damn!
Re: Damn!
Date: 2002-11-19 09:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2002-11-16 06:53 pm (UTC)*glares at you*
Sometimes I'm filled with envy.
You both do a wonderful job.
*sighs and glares some more, grumbling about being insanely jealous*
(and I'm getting to the TrickC question..just been gone all day so I'm kinda flooded here)
no subject
Date: 2002-11-19 10:02 am (UTC)Seriously--I'm glad you liked the story :-) We had fun writing it *g*
And I will answer to your TrickC answer thing that came back, once I get a chance to catch my breath. Been a wild couple of days lately! *hugs*
your recommended daily allowance of smut.
Date: 2002-11-19 09:22 am (UTC)oh my holy hell! i am broken. you have broken me (much like a feisty colt, you might say). i am broken. i am nothing more than a squelchy puddle of goo one the floor under my desk.
i could tell you how my body reacted to this story, but it would be major TMI. so, take that as the biggest compliment i could ever possibly give you.
Re: your recommended daily allowance of smut.
Date: 2002-11-19 10:05 am (UTC)Hee! Well, no *g* I mean, we didn't sit down and say 'hey, we wanna kill the audience with the story' :) But dude. Your reaction? Is very, very flattering. And yeah, I get you with the TMI thing :) But again--flattering. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much!
(And thanks for letting us know!)
Re: your recommended daily allowance of smut.
Date: 2002-11-20 01:58 am (UTC)damn, you're onto us!
oooh. onto us. ::leers::