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http://users.livejournal.com/nixxie_/) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2003-06-20 01:31 am
http://users.livejournal.com/nixxie_/) wrote in fellowshippers2003-06-20 01:31 am
Fic: Birthday Wishes, Elijah/Craig, R18 (BDSM warning)
Author: Nixxie
Title: Birthday wishes
Pairing: Elijah/Craig
Rating: R18
Warnings: BDSM in big handfuls, in mental images and in what happens here. If anything more than a quick slap and tickle squicks you then move along please :)
Summary: Elijah’s birthday has an unusual cake… but who’ll be blowing out the candles?
Authors notes: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rpschallenge Birthday challenge
A circle of candles flicker slowly in the breeze. Birthday candles. …pink ones.
Nothing unusual so far, maybe…well, very true… apart from the fact that the circle of candles are flickering not just by breeze… but by someone’s breathing, slow and shallow, in and tentatively out.
Added to that, of course, the fact that the candles aren’t in a cake… they have each been set in place by a droplet of wax, then all stood upright in the droplet till set… and then each candle was lit.
Still nothing curious, you think? Well… maybe not… apart from the fact that the pretty pink candles are in a circle, set in dripped wax… on the birthday boy’s stomach…
On my bare stomach!
.........
Everything is dark and still. He just lit them and left me here like this, with nothing to do but watch the candles getting lower and lower despite my efforts not to breathe too hard, and make them gutter and drip.
I know what a devious bastard he can be… I know… it nags at the back of my mind that he’ll just leave me here like this and let them burn a small red circle on my skin.
But I don’t call out. I’ve learnt that lesson long ago. And learnt it well, too. I just wait, my patience frayed to its limits, my fingers wanting so much to twitch, my nails begging to be chewed. And yet I don’t. I cannot. I will not.
My cock twitches though, in its tight leather bindings. Each ball separated from my cock, which itself has its own tight loop of bedevilling pleasure, holding me hard, holding me tight. He only uses this one on the most special of occasions. I guess the birthday of his lover turned love slave counts as that.
We’ve had the whole week together, he and I. Off alone on his island home. Not that I’ve seen much of it, mind you! The airport when I arrived, a taxi ride here, and then mostly just the inside of his bedroom, (where he chains me nightly) the bathroom, (where the shower is big enough for two, and the bath is big enough for four) the kitchen, (where he made me lick the floor clean when I disobeyed him by begging when I wasn’t given permission). And now the dining room, (where I’m tied to the dining table, spread-eagled and horny) (and waiting...).
I hear a slight sound in the doorway, but I don’t raise my head… and I know I’ll get rewarded for that submissive gesture later. I do trust him, no matter how weird some people might think this. I’m just a man, with a man’s hormones and a man’s needs and wants. And Craig takes care of all of that for me. He cares enough to give me release when I warrant it, and cares enough to punish me justly when I deserve nothing else.
The sound of breathing from across the room tells me that he is here with me, my cock jumps in its bindings and a crystal clear droplet falls to my stomach, a sticky line connecting the drip with more already forming in my slit. I look out into the blackness where the candle light cannot travel, and am rewarded with a glimpse of his face, alight with a glow of its own. My sweet Craig, my lover, my Master. My bringer of contentment and delighter of pain.
In a sudden movement the glistening line of pre-cum breaks as his hand grabs my cock. Pumping, pumping so hard after so long left unattended. Yet I can’t breathe, I cannot move, I cannot make a sound. I can only react by swelling harder still, my bound skin turning a purple shade of red. I look up at him, his eyes glinting in the now fluttering light, a smile that would not look out of place on Cupid or Lucifer filling his face, filling my mind. He loves me. Me and me alone, and it shows. It glows from his eyes as he stares down at me, willing me to do the right thing, to warrant completion for us both.
The hand continues, steady and blissfully excruciating in its balanced pace and strength of resilience. Just one hand, one palm, and yet it fills my entirety with yearning, with a craving for something neither Craig, nor the bindings, will allow me. Liberation fills my mind as my stomach muscles clench tight, yearning to cum, desiring sweet freedom.
The room becomes deathly quiet as my hips buck, just the once, in an almighty release that never comes, skin shuddering and glistening with sweat, cock pulsing with delight, though the bindings stop any juices flowing despite what my body thinks should be happening. My mind is filled with a buzz of absolute joy and terror and want mixed together with a spoonful of pure pain, no other thoughts allowed inside but what I feel right now, what I ache for deep within.
Everything in me is tight with fury as the orgasm my body wants never comes, built up so long and yet denied me by the entrapment of leather and silver clasps. But then horror, anticipation and dread swamp my thoughts, a shiver running down my spine as I realise what, in my hasty yearning for only my own selfish pleasure, I have done.
I moved.
My hips jolted though I was not allowed, my body reacted when he ordered me not to. I wanted to cum even though he hadn’t told me I was allowed to.
I moved.
But now I’m frozen to the spot as his hand quickly removes itself from my still pulsating erection and I can hear the air swishing as he swipes his hand back fast… and then down hastily, flat of palm connecting in a swift thwack to my engorged cock as his hand continues upwards, following the arc of my pain. My mind afire with white, searing into the back of my suddenly closed eyelids, blazing a path of shame from my screwed shut eyes to my still sorrowfully hard length.
I’m motionless.
But all I’m rewarded with this time is a breath of cool air upon my stomach, vanquishing light from the room as 22 pink birthday candles snuff out… and my birthday celebration ends.
I’m done with.
Title: Birthday wishes
Pairing: Elijah/Craig
Rating: R18
Warnings: BDSM in big handfuls, in mental images and in what happens here. If anything more than a quick slap and tickle squicks you then move along please :)
Summary: Elijah’s birthday has an unusual cake… but who’ll be blowing out the candles?
Authors notes: Written for the
rpschallenge Birthday challenge A circle of candles flicker slowly in the breeze. Birthday candles. …pink ones.
Nothing unusual so far, maybe…well, very true… apart from the fact that the circle of candles are flickering not just by breeze… but by someone’s breathing, slow and shallow, in and tentatively out.
Added to that, of course, the fact that the candles aren’t in a cake… they have each been set in place by a droplet of wax, then all stood upright in the droplet till set… and then each candle was lit.
Still nothing curious, you think? Well… maybe not… apart from the fact that the pretty pink candles are in a circle, set in dripped wax… on the birthday boy’s stomach…
On my bare stomach!
.........
Everything is dark and still. He just lit them and left me here like this, with nothing to do but watch the candles getting lower and lower despite my efforts not to breathe too hard, and make them gutter and drip.
I know what a devious bastard he can be… I know… it nags at the back of my mind that he’ll just leave me here like this and let them burn a small red circle on my skin.
But I don’t call out. I’ve learnt that lesson long ago. And learnt it well, too. I just wait, my patience frayed to its limits, my fingers wanting so much to twitch, my nails begging to be chewed. And yet I don’t. I cannot. I will not.
My cock twitches though, in its tight leather bindings. Each ball separated from my cock, which itself has its own tight loop of bedevilling pleasure, holding me hard, holding me tight. He only uses this one on the most special of occasions. I guess the birthday of his lover turned love slave counts as that.
We’ve had the whole week together, he and I. Off alone on his island home. Not that I’ve seen much of it, mind you! The airport when I arrived, a taxi ride here, and then mostly just the inside of his bedroom, (where he chains me nightly) the bathroom, (where the shower is big enough for two, and the bath is big enough for four) the kitchen, (where he made me lick the floor clean when I disobeyed him by begging when I wasn’t given permission). And now the dining room, (where I’m tied to the dining table, spread-eagled and horny) (and waiting...).
I hear a slight sound in the doorway, but I don’t raise my head… and I know I’ll get rewarded for that submissive gesture later. I do trust him, no matter how weird some people might think this. I’m just a man, with a man’s hormones and a man’s needs and wants. And Craig takes care of all of that for me. He cares enough to give me release when I warrant it, and cares enough to punish me justly when I deserve nothing else.
The sound of breathing from across the room tells me that he is here with me, my cock jumps in its bindings and a crystal clear droplet falls to my stomach, a sticky line connecting the drip with more already forming in my slit. I look out into the blackness where the candle light cannot travel, and am rewarded with a glimpse of his face, alight with a glow of its own. My sweet Craig, my lover, my Master. My bringer of contentment and delighter of pain.
In a sudden movement the glistening line of pre-cum breaks as his hand grabs my cock. Pumping, pumping so hard after so long left unattended. Yet I can’t breathe, I cannot move, I cannot make a sound. I can only react by swelling harder still, my bound skin turning a purple shade of red. I look up at him, his eyes glinting in the now fluttering light, a smile that would not look out of place on Cupid or Lucifer filling his face, filling my mind. He loves me. Me and me alone, and it shows. It glows from his eyes as he stares down at me, willing me to do the right thing, to warrant completion for us both.
The hand continues, steady and blissfully excruciating in its balanced pace and strength of resilience. Just one hand, one palm, and yet it fills my entirety with yearning, with a craving for something neither Craig, nor the bindings, will allow me. Liberation fills my mind as my stomach muscles clench tight, yearning to cum, desiring sweet freedom.
The room becomes deathly quiet as my hips buck, just the once, in an almighty release that never comes, skin shuddering and glistening with sweat, cock pulsing with delight, though the bindings stop any juices flowing despite what my body thinks should be happening. My mind is filled with a buzz of absolute joy and terror and want mixed together with a spoonful of pure pain, no other thoughts allowed inside but what I feel right now, what I ache for deep within.
Everything in me is tight with fury as the orgasm my body wants never comes, built up so long and yet denied me by the entrapment of leather and silver clasps. But then horror, anticipation and dread swamp my thoughts, a shiver running down my spine as I realise what, in my hasty yearning for only my own selfish pleasure, I have done.
I moved.
My hips jolted though I was not allowed, my body reacted when he ordered me not to. I wanted to cum even though he hadn’t told me I was allowed to.
I moved.
But now I’m frozen to the spot as his hand quickly removes itself from my still pulsating erection and I can hear the air swishing as he swipes his hand back fast… and then down hastily, flat of palm connecting in a swift thwack to my engorged cock as his hand continues upwards, following the arc of my pain. My mind afire with white, searing into the back of my suddenly closed eyelids, blazing a path of shame from my screwed shut eyes to my still sorrowfully hard length.
I’m motionless.
But all I’m rewarded with this time is a breath of cool air upon my stomach, vanquishing light from the room as 22 pink birthday candles snuff out… and my birthday celebration ends.
I’m done with.