| [Jul. 7th, 2013|10:56 pm] |
Raidou’s startled hiss ground itself out in a slow, shivery exhale as heat replaced teeth. This clearly wasn’t Ryouma’s first rodeo—even with his hands locked behind his back, he was still clever and confident, starting with a warm tease that actually helped settle Raidou back into his skin.
Raidou had all the advantages here, standing over Ryouma with his hands free, but still—that was delicate anatomy to trust to any qualified killer. He had to watch his own reflexes. Nothing quite ruined a moment like accidentally breaking someone’s jaw.
And then the moment to catch his breath ended.
Ryouma hummed, making nerves tingle in fantastic ways, and ducked his head, relaxing his throat; he took everything in one easy move, sending licks of fire up Raidou’s spine. He eased back almost immediately, slow; cool air brushed wet skin. Then Ryouma swallowed him again, all the way, before catching a rhythm and keeping it.
Was he eros?
No, Raidou doubted it, not with that many scars. Just well-practiced.
Carefully, Raidou slid a hand through that sleek black hair, weighing Ryouma’s reaction—a little tension, ready to resist if Raidou forced his head down, but cautious relaxation when Raidou just rested his hand there, cupped around the curve of skull. There was product in Ryouma’s hair: the light, slippery kind that created spikes without gluing them. After another moment, Raidou let his free hand settle on Ryouma’s shoulder, thumb rubbing the sensitive skin at the throat, feeling every swallow.
“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” he asked, voice sliding low.
Dark lashes flicked; darker eyes looked up at him. And wasn't that just something, all that deadly skill kneeling at Raidou's feet, mouth stretched, cheeks hollow, sharp cheekbones stained with a faint flush, willing to let Raidou manhandle him around, trusting that Raidou wouldn't take it too far—
Which was a frankly insane level of trust for a one-night-stand, but no one had ever called shinobi sane.
Ryouma made a questioning sound.
“Handsome, I was thinking,” Raidou said. “Unless you’d actually prefer pretty, because you’ve got the bone structure for—ngh.”
Maybe a little eros.
Ryouma pulled free with one long lave of his tongue, and tipped his head back against Raidou’s hand. “You can call me anything you like,” he said hoarsely. “D’you want to come now?”
They needed to put a warning label on this guy, Raidou thought distantly.
He hadn’t planned to this soon, but Ryouma was complexity to tackle clear-headed, without the distraction of blood pounding red in his ears. And Raidou was in touch enough with the baser parts of himself to acknowledge that he really wanted to defile that cocky, clever mouth.
He lifted his chin, mouth curving, and challenged, “Can you make me?” |
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