Crossover: Batman Begins/Equilibrium - Preston/Ducard, sensory overload, self-denial, release, etc.
Crossover: Batman Begins/Equilibrium, Preston/Ducard: sensory overload, self denial, release, Ducard helps Preston overcome his fear of climaxing –
A/N: I've never played here before, but the prompt was irresistable - hope the log in and formatting are right - BTW, I am "ennorwen" over at livejournal. ----------------
“Believe it,” says Ducard from behind, edges of his beard tickling at Preston’s neck, breath hot at his ear, “It is the same place you go when you do the katas.”
Preston inhales, smells the mingled scent of their sweat after the bout of hand-to-hand with Ducard. Smells the musk and the pungency of Ducard’s arousal at his back.
“Go there now, John.”
The directive, the depth of the voice, resonates down through his neck and spreads directly to his groin.
He feels the arm snake around his waist, the skin of his loins prickle under the practiced fingers of Ducard’s right hand. Feels the hand move lower, untwisting the towel around his waist, letting it drop. Feels. He hates it that he asked Ducard to deny him his interval, wishes that he felt the prick of the needle at his neck, wishes now that he could not feel. Feel this.
Preston shivers involuntarily, and is aware of himself hardening as the fingers draw nearer. He seeks that place, hovering perilously between full self awareness and denial. He shudders as Ducard’s left hand braces itself on his hip, pulling him backward.
“No,” he answers, breath coming quicker, arms flexing themselves, ready to move, break free.
Ducard’s left hand tightens around his hip as he encircles Preston’s shaft with a large hand, touching the head with a finger, feeling the drops of Preston’s arousal at the tip
“It is as you sought, John. It is part of what I have to teach you.”
Preston closes his eyes and his mouth opens, breath coming quicker as the hand travels the distance from the base to the tip, back and forth, a rhythm. A rhythm that Preston recognizes, vaguely remembers. Fights.
“I can’t,” he gasps, but the hand tightens, moves faster, twists at the tip.
“No,” he breaths, body shaking, stomach convulsing with the effort to suppress the building crescendo at the base of his spine.
“You’re there, John,” says Ducard. He feels Preston’s balls swell, draw up. Feels Preston’s cock pulse under his fingers.
“Come, John.”
Preston can’t stop it, the voice compelling, his master demanding it, the coils releasing and shooting through his belly. He comes with a loud keen, rupturing within, bright white spasming through his body and erupting from his cock, so much more than mere ejaculate exiting his body.
Ducard brings his hand to Preston’s mouth, brushing his fingers over the lips, painting them, pushing through the pillowy flesh.
“Now, taste,” he says.
Preston moans as his lips part, and his body begins to shake, at first a small quivering and then uncontrollably. Preston feels his knees buckle, but Ducard’s strength holds him.
Preston turns into Ducard’s chest and feels the muscular arms take him, cradling him tightly within his embrace.
“Believe it,” he hears, the whisp of breath at his ear.