ext_46181 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fellowshippers2005-12-20 09:27 pm
v-angelique.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-12-20 09:27 pm
A kinky break...
Title: Shut Your Mouth
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Pairing: Viglijah
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: BDSM, serious kink.
Feedback: Love it!
Archive: Just ask.
Disclaimer: This is so not true it’s not even funny.
Summary: I’ve been listening to a lot of Garbage lately, and this was just begging to get out. And nine pages of smut later, here it is. Kink with a bit ‘o plot. Hope you enjoy! (And thanks for all the comments on "Brethren," next chapter should be up tonight or tomorrow.)
Welcome
We love you
We hate you
We love you
We want you
We need you
We wish we were like you
Elijah had known he was gay for years. He didn’t have any qualms about it, really, had had a few boyfriends and a few less-than-boyfriends back in LA, and it was no big deal. It wasn’t until New Zealand, though, that he had started going to this particular sort of club.
He had known about the “scene” in LA, but always been a bit afraid. Anyone could know him, recognize him, out him. He wouldn’t care so much if the press picked up on a queer vibe, but this was different. This was private, and he needed this part of his life, this desire, to remain a secret from the public for it to be effective. This was the way he could be anonymous, step out of the spotlight for a while and give up control. He enjoyed it more than he liked to admit.
He had always known that he would like it. In previous relationships, he had always emitted that little gasp, that half-shriek, half-whimper of pleasure when a lover dug his fingers too hard into Elijah’s hipbones or pulled at his hair just a bit too roughly. One man he took to bed had even swatted him on the ass a couple of times before sex, and he found that he came harder from that experience than he ever had in a relationship.
When he showed up in New Zealand, it didn’t take long to find the place. He kept his cool, clung to the edge of the room; didn’t attract too much attention at first. He was the perfect submissive, always sipping his beer slowly with head lowered until someone came along and sized him up, asked him to come home with them. Sometimes the men were too rough, too dangerous for Elijah’s liking, but he hadn’t gotten himself into any real trouble thus far, and he wasn’t too worried about it. He always specified a safeword, always required a condom. It was pain, but it was a safe environment.
A few weeks in though, he started hearing about a man. A name was dropped reverently from everyone’s lips, an outsider to the local scene that was definitely turning heads, making submissives plead and beg for more. Unfortunately for those who were lucky enough to have this man, though, he hadn’t yet “played” with any conquest twice, and he didn’t seem eager to. Still, the name circulated, a buzzword on everyone’s lips, making Elijah intensely nervous.
Viggo.
He hadn’t yet seen his co-star in the club though, thank God. Maybe Viggo knew and was consciously avoiding him, but he didn’t care. Perhaps he shouldn’t come back, find another way to get his bouts of night time pleasure in, but for some reason the inevitability of meeting here eventually didn’t scare Elijah off. And, perhaps lucky for him, they never had met.
Until now.
He noticed, as he sipped nervously at his beer, that Viggo did not look surprised. He simply crossed the room, lowered himself onto the stool to Elijah’s left, and nodded.
“So who is he?” he asked conversationally. Elijah gulped, and took another sip of his beer before replying.
“Who’s…who?” Viggo laughed lightly and reached out, his thumb briefly flicking the leather of the collar around Elijah’s neck.
“Who owns you?” he asked, softly, as if he was asking what team Elijah supported or what was for dinner.
“I…nuh…no one,” he stuttered, feeling an extreme instinct to flee. “I thought… I thought this would make it clear to people. You know, that I’m… submissive.” He lowered his head, eyes following, and Viggo laughed, tilting his head back slightly.
“I don’t think anyone would make a mistake about that,” he commented, leaning in and lowering his head conspiratorially, his voice low and almost a little rough around the edges. Elijah took in a slow, shaky breath as Viggo’s hand gently squeezed his thigh, and then let his eyes go a little wider when he realized it wasn’t going away. “You’ve done this before,” he added, a statement and not a question. Elijah nodded slowly, affirming, and Viggo smiled warmly. He reached out with the pointer finger of the hand that was not currently resting on Elijah’s leg and gently lifted Elijah’s chin. “You want me to show you something new, Elijah?” Elijah gulped, and finding no appropriate words, nodded. Viggo just smiled.
Viggo’s house was about fifteen minutes away, and it was too long. Elijah was nervous. He crossed and uncrossed his legs constantly, tapped his wrist on the window’s edge as he flicked ash into the wind. No speaking, Viggo had insisted, until they were back to his place. But all not speaking did was make Elijah’s mind race, race with anticipation and want. He hadn’t wanted to admit this, that he actually wanted Viggo. But now, sitting alone in a car with the man whose sexual prowess he had heard rumours about for months, he couldn’t help but be a little nervous, his veins positively thrumming with need. When they pulled into Viggo’s drive, Elijah hardly noticed that they had arrived, exiting the car as if his limbs were made of Jell-O. He followed Viggo wordlessly into the house, watched as he peeled off his jacket; threw his keys on the table. Viggo didn’t wear leather like a lot of the dominant men in the club, Elijah noticed, but then maybe Viggo didn’t have to. His reputation certainly preceded him, and Elijah suddenly felt silly standing in Viggo’s living room in tight leather trousers and a form-fitting black sweater. He, too, would be much more comfortable in jeans, but it was too late now.
“You may speak now,” Viggo announced, but Elijah found that despite the permission his mouth felt like cotton. “What do you want me to do to you?” he asked, and his voice was low and sultry, his head dipping just in the direction of Elijah’s ear but not quite touching it.
“I…” Elijah paused, thought for a moment, and drew a blank. “Do what you want to do to me,” he finally replied, and Viggo grinned broadly. Elijah couldn’t help but flush a bit with pride, knowing that he had said the right thing.
“You sure, Elijah?” Viggo asked, and his tone was dangerous. “I could hurt you,” he warned, just the tip of a tongue darting out to flick Elijah’s lobe.
“I… want you to,” Elijah replied, barely a whisper, his eyes blinking shut.
“Open your eyes!” Viggo barked, and Elijah obeyed immediately, wide pools of blue staring up expectantly at Viggo, who now stood face-to-face with Elijah. “You’re ashamed,” Viggo stated, and Elijah found it unnerving how Viggo never asked him a question. He just knew. “You like pain,” he continued. “It arouses you.” Elijah nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Have you enjoyed your other encounters like this, Elijah? Did you like having men hurt you?”
“I don’t know,” Elijah replied, and he was being honest. “I guess… I mean, I got off on it, but the guys… I guess I’m not really attracted to them. There’s not much of a…” He groped for the word, and Viggo just smiled, knowingly, lifting Elijah’s chin again to speak a fraction of a centimetre from his lips.
“Connexion?” Elijah nodded, and Viggo smiled again. “First rule, Elijah. It’s not just a game. You don’t do this separate from relationships, just for the sex, and expect to get something out of it.
“But you…” Viggo yanked hard on Elijah’s chin, and tears pricked at his eyes, immediately swallowing the thought.
“What I do or do not do is not really your business, Elijah. But I will tell you that yes, I have taken many men home. And, consistent with popular rumour, I have not yet found someone worth having a real relationship with.”
“Are…may I ask a question, sir?” Elijah asked in response to Viggo’s warning look, and Viggo smiled.
“You learn quickly, ‘Lijah. Yes you may.”
“Are you looking? For a relationship?” Viggo looked thoughtful, for a moment.
“I’m not sure.”
“Then me… why did you take me here?”
“Elijah, think about it. You’re my friend. I already have a relationship with you.” Elijah didn’t say what he wanted to, swallowed his response. I want more. Viggo, anyway, probably already knew. “Now you trust me, right?”
“I’d trust you with my life,” Elijah replied without hesitation, and Viggo smiled.
“Good. Perfect. I want to show you something. I want to show you trust. I know the men you’ve seen here, Elijah, and they aren’t interested in trust. They’re interested in… well, fucking. Not that that’s a bad thing, and believe me, I plan to fuck you…” The hitch in Elijah’s breath did not go unnoticed, but Viggo continued without pause. “… but I plan to do more, as well. I want to show you what loss of control is really about. Are you ready, do you think? Are you ready to learn?” Elijah nodded, enthusiastically, chin still in Viggo’s grip, and sighed lightly as a finger traced his jawbone. “Good. Come with me.”
Would you confess if we asked
That you nurture the urge?
To declare that it’s time
To settle down
With a man of your own
You want a baby
A family
A piece of security
Elijah blinked at the bed in front of him, and felt a sense of inevitably. This was it. Viggo, to his credit, started slow. He stepped up behind Elijah, casually, and ran his hands feather-light up Elijah’s sides, stroking the fabric of his sweater and making him instantly aroused and wanting more. In the past, it had never been this gentle, always in the house and fucking against the inside of the door, or maybe even against the brick wall in the alley behind the club, but that wasn’t Viggo. Viggo had class. And Elijah figured that Viggo could be whipping him with one hand, wanking with the other, and watching a plug twist and plunge in Elijah’s arse, and he would still have class. Elijah swallowed, realizing that wasn’t a great image to conjure at the moment, and blushed a deep crimson as Viggo laughed against his neck, his fingers just barely brushing the fabric of Elijah’s much-too-constraining trousers.
“Lovely,” Viggo whispered, and Elijah shivered in spite of himself. “So ready for me, and the night is yet young. But we can’t have you coming in your pants like a little boy, now can we?” he snarled, and Elijah’s cheeks flushed even redder. He would not make a fool out of himself in Viggo’s bed. He would not. Viggo’s fingers popped his fly open with one hand, lowered the zipper. His other hand cupped Elijah’s leather-clad arse once, giving an almost bruisingly firm squeeze before lowering the trousers all together. Elijah hadn’t bothered with the formality of pants under the leather, anticipating what would be to come late in the evening, and Viggo just let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing Elijah’s bare hip. “So ready…” he whispered again, but then he left Elijah standing alone at the foot of the bed, and Elijah knew without hearing any words that he was to remain still. Erect. Well, at least that wasn’t a problem.
Viggo grinned a little evilly when he returned, carrying some sort of leather contraption in one hand. “You ever been put in one of these?” he asked, and Elijah shook his head. Past experiences had mainly consisted of spanking, rough sex, maybe a few forced blowjobs, but his previous dominants hadn’t been too fancy when it came to equipment, at least not for a quick drunken shag. Elijah gasped as Viggo’s hand stroked the back of his thighs, then let his knee dig in to nudge them apart. Elijah obeyed and gasped again as Viggo pushed him forward, so that he was standing, legs spread liberally, leaning forward over the foot of the bed with his elbows bracing him. Viggo tugged Elijah’s sweater over his head, but left it bunched around the arms, restraining his movement slightly, as he reached down again and brushed Elijah’s balls. He shivered, clenched his fists, but tried his best to hold still as his balls were lowered into leather loops, leather and metal adjusted carefully as two rings went around his hardened shaft. He sucked in a breath when the contraption was fastened completely, and then felt Viggo’s smile against the back of his neck. “Now you can let your thoughts wander as much as you want, enjoy me all you like. You’re not going anywhere.” Elijah whimpered, just a bit, and Viggo laughed almost cruelly, pulling away and leaving Elijah painfully aware of the space between them. “You just love this, don’t you?” The question was rhetorical as Viggo’s gaze swept his exposed body. He hadn’t bothered wearing a tshirt underneath the sweater, somewhat masochistically enjoying the rough feeling of the knit fabric against his hardened nipples, and his skin was tinged just slightly pink from excitement. Viggo seemed to just stand there, staring, for hours, but it was in reality less than two minutes, and then Viggo was walking away again, rifling through a drawer. When he returned, Elijah’s sweater was removed from his arms and tossed to the floor, and Viggo patted him firmly on the bum. “On the bed,” he commanded, and Elijah scrambled quickly to obey. “On your knees. Pretty as you are, spread out like that, you’ll need a bit more of a brace for what I’m going to do to you,” he explained, and Elijah couldn’t help but hope. Again, he was pushed forward, but this time his wrists were cuffed with plain metal handcuffs, the chain looped around the centre rail of Viggo’s very sturdy-looking headboard. His eyes glazed over with lust as Viggo positioned him carefully, tugging his hips back, stretching his arms out straight in front of him, parting his knees slightly. “I want you to be able to tug tight when it hurts,” Viggo explained, and Elijah found his poor purpled erection growing impossible harder at the thought of what “it” might be. “Don’t look,” Viggo commanded, and he shut his eyes tight until he felt the first blow, eyes wrenching open again as the force slammed him forward. “Pull back, Elijah,” Viggo demanded roughly, voice all business now. He took a calming breath and pulled his arms taut again against the now expected forward force of the blow from what felt like a rubber-covered wooden paddle. The next blow rocked his pelvis forward as he kept his upper body stretched back, and he could have sworn he heard the smile in Viggo’s voice as he made his next order. “Count them.” In a shaky voice, but growing stronger with each smack, Elijah counted the blows that Viggo rained down on the tender flesh of his backside.
“Four…five…six…oh, fuck,” he whispered, unable to help himself as he felt the blood continue to surge to his dick, shutting his eyes against the painpleasurepain of being hit by Viggo while his cock and balls were tightly bound against a premature orgasm. “…seven…eight…nine…ten…oh more, please God,” he begged when Viggo paused briefly, and the older man just chuckled.
“Patience, Elijah,” Viggo soothed, running a gentle hand over his now rosy arse. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive,” he pointed out, and Elijah knew he shouldn’t be turned on so incredibly by that fact, but of course he was. “I’m not doing this for a quick climax, ‘Lij. I want to draw it out. Make you hurt slow, like a burn, creeping up through your veins and overwhelming your system until you can’t concentrate on anything else and all you could ever wish for is my dick, pounding your ass, filling you up. I’m going to keep going, Elijah, until orgasm isn’t even the goal anymore. Until all you want is the feel of my cock, the feel of my hands, the feel of my mouth. I’m going to make you burn until you don’t even care about your own pleasure anymore, and all you want is what I want for you. You understand?” Elijah breathed in sharply, thinking to himself that Viggo might make a hell of a lot more money on a phone sex line than with acting, but didn’t say it. He just nodded, panting, and then screamed as the next blow fell.
“Twelve… thirteen…”
When the treatment was finally over, all Elijah wanted was relief. A soothing touch, a hot bath…instead what he got was Viggo, leaning over and obscenely sucking at the red welts all over his arse, a wet tongue lapping across the abused skin. And Elijah found himself helpless to complain, instead breathing in short spurts and finding himself enjoying it very much indeed. “More,” he whimpered, almost not in control of his own voice, when Viggo pulled away. Viggo just laughed.
“More what?”
“More of this… more of anything… please… you decide… oh, God…” Viggo laughed again, and smoothed a soothing hand over Elijah’s lower back, placing a random kiss against his hair.
“Good boy. I think you’re almost ready.”
“For what?” Elijah whispered when no further explanation was given.
“To be taken. To be made mine.” Elijah gasped and found his arse pressing back of its own accord, wrists tugging painfully against their restraints.
“Please,” he whimpered, breathless, and Viggo just grinned and scraped his teeth along the curve of Elijah’s ear, avoiding the areas where he wanted to be touched most.
“You want this?” he asked, redundantly, smoothing his hand over Elijah’s arse and revelling in his sharp hiss. “You want me to fuck you, even like this, even so raw and painful?”
“Please…”
“It will hurt.”
“Hurt me,” Elijah whispered, desperate.
“What do you want, Elijah? You want a casual fuck out of this? You want the best ride of your life, something to remember long after you’ve kissed New Zealand goodbye?”
“I…” Elijah was embarrassed, and wished he could hide his face.
“Honesty, Elijah. Tell me what you want.”
“I… I want this again. And again. And more.” Viggo smiled against the nape of his neck and casually pressed a finger inside his arse, earning a pained yelp from the boy.
“You want to really be mine, Elijah? You want me to teach you everything I know?”
“Oh, God… Viggo, please. Everything. Everything. Yours. I’m yours,” he whimpered.
“I don’t believe you.” Two fingers.
“Yes… it’s true… please, Viggo, please. Anything. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yes,” he hissed, bucking involuntarily against the third finger. But Viggo’s fingers abruptly left his ass, and he pulled back from Elijah, leaving him feeling very empty indeed.
“Even let me walk away? Will you spend the night here, without me, not even touch yourself, not allow yourself to come, if I ask you to? Will you do that for me?” Elijah inhaled, disappointed, but still nodded as he did so.
“Yes,” he replied, resigned but persistent, and then screamed as Viggo impaled him, his entire body attempting to jerk forward but restrained as Viggo grabbed his shoulders and tugged back, stretching his arms out painfully, yet again. Elijah didn’t care.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Viggo groaned. “So beautifully obedient,” he whispered, thrusting mercilessly as an endless litany of whimpers and cries escaped Elijah’s lips. “You would really do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, oh God, yes!” Elijah exclaimed, tugging back on his own now with his arms, sitting up on his knees and allowing Viggo to slam into him as deep as he liked.
“Will you come for me?” Viggo growled into his ear.
“Yesssss….”
“Only for me, for no one else? Will you come with my name on your lips, and promise not even to touch yourself until I say it’s okay? Will you wait to come until I say it’s okay?” Elijah nodded vigorously, slamming his own hips back against Viggo’s despite the intense pain that blossomed across his skin.
“Yes, oh God, please, only you, only you…” Viggo reached down gingerly and released Elijah’s cock from its prison as he continued to fill him with every thrust, his fingers twisting and pinching Elijah’s nipples painfully. Elijah grit his teeth, shut his eyes, tried with all his might not to come on the spot. It was so hard, his cock was so hard, but he waited, held out for two more minutes as Viggo’s own orgasm was allowed to build, as his grunts increased in volume and he finally came with a loud groan inside Elijah, hissing “now… come for me, ‘Lijah,” as he rode out the waves of pleasure, and Elijah let go immediately, gasping, chanting Viggo’s name over and over in a hoarse half-scream as orgasm wracked his body. When it was over, he collapsed, limbless, and Viggo tenderly pulled out of Elijah’s abused body, tossing the used condom in the trash and disappearing into the bathroom, returning only to press a cool washcloth to Elijah’s ass, prompting first a hiss and then a chorus of sighs as Viggo attended to him as only a lover would. A few minutes later, when Viggo spooned up behind him and unlocked the cuffs, Elijah whispered uncertainly into the silence.
“You meant it, right? I mean you meant… it wasn’t just a fuck, for you? Because it wasn’t for me.” Viggo smiled, marveling at how quickly Elijah’s confidence returned, and how his normal sputtering waterfall pattern of speech resumed when he was no longer chained physically and mentally by Viggo’s command.
“Of course I meant it,” Viggo whispered, cradling Eliijah gently in his arms. “I never say things I don’t mean.” And Elijah, smiling gently on his way into sleep, believed him.
Author: Viktoria Angelique
Email: viktoria_angelique@hotmail.com
Pairing: Viglijah
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: BDSM, serious kink.
Feedback: Love it!
Archive: Just ask.
Disclaimer: This is so not true it’s not even funny.
Summary: I’ve been listening to a lot of Garbage lately, and this was just begging to get out. And nine pages of smut later, here it is. Kink with a bit ‘o plot. Hope you enjoy! (And thanks for all the comments on "Brethren," next chapter should be up tonight or tomorrow.)
Welcome
We love you
We hate you
We love you
We want you
We need you
We wish we were like you
They say you're a saint
You're a whore
You're a sinner
That he had you
He made you
He can't live without you
Elijah had known he was gay for years. He didn’t have any qualms about it, really, had had a few boyfriends and a few less-than-boyfriends back in LA, and it was no big deal. It wasn’t until New Zealand, though, that he had started going to this particular sort of club.
He had known about the “scene” in LA, but always been a bit afraid. Anyone could know him, recognize him, out him. He wouldn’t care so much if the press picked up on a queer vibe, but this was different. This was private, and he needed this part of his life, this desire, to remain a secret from the public for it to be effective. This was the way he could be anonymous, step out of the spotlight for a while and give up control. He enjoyed it more than he liked to admit.
He had always known that he would like it. In previous relationships, he had always emitted that little gasp, that half-shriek, half-whimper of pleasure when a lover dug his fingers too hard into Elijah’s hipbones or pulled at his hair just a bit too roughly. One man he took to bed had even swatted him on the ass a couple of times before sex, and he found that he came harder from that experience than he ever had in a relationship.
When he showed up in New Zealand, it didn’t take long to find the place. He kept his cool, clung to the edge of the room; didn’t attract too much attention at first. He was the perfect submissive, always sipping his beer slowly with head lowered until someone came along and sized him up, asked him to come home with them. Sometimes the men were too rough, too dangerous for Elijah’s liking, but he hadn’t gotten himself into any real trouble thus far, and he wasn’t too worried about it. He always specified a safeword, always required a condom. It was pain, but it was a safe environment.
A few weeks in though, he started hearing about a man. A name was dropped reverently from everyone’s lips, an outsider to the local scene that was definitely turning heads, making submissives plead and beg for more. Unfortunately for those who were lucky enough to have this man, though, he hadn’t yet “played” with any conquest twice, and he didn’t seem eager to. Still, the name circulated, a buzzword on everyone’s lips, making Elijah intensely nervous.
Viggo.
He hadn’t yet seen his co-star in the club though, thank God. Maybe Viggo knew and was consciously avoiding him, but he didn’t care. Perhaps he shouldn’t come back, find another way to get his bouts of night time pleasure in, but for some reason the inevitability of meeting here eventually didn’t scare Elijah off. And, perhaps lucky for him, they never had met.
Until now.
He noticed, as he sipped nervously at his beer, that Viggo did not look surprised. He simply crossed the room, lowered himself onto the stool to Elijah’s left, and nodded.
“So who is he?” he asked conversationally. Elijah gulped, and took another sip of his beer before replying.
“Who’s…who?” Viggo laughed lightly and reached out, his thumb briefly flicking the leather of the collar around Elijah’s neck.
“Who owns you?” he asked, softly, as if he was asking what team Elijah supported or what was for dinner.
“I…nuh…no one,” he stuttered, feeling an extreme instinct to flee. “I thought… I thought this would make it clear to people. You know, that I’m… submissive.” He lowered his head, eyes following, and Viggo laughed, tilting his head back slightly.
“I don’t think anyone would make a mistake about that,” he commented, leaning in and lowering his head conspiratorially, his voice low and almost a little rough around the edges. Elijah took in a slow, shaky breath as Viggo’s hand gently squeezed his thigh, and then let his eyes go a little wider when he realized it wasn’t going away. “You’ve done this before,” he added, a statement and not a question. Elijah nodded slowly, affirming, and Viggo smiled warmly. He reached out with the pointer finger of the hand that was not currently resting on Elijah’s leg and gently lifted Elijah’s chin. “You want me to show you something new, Elijah?” Elijah gulped, and finding no appropriate words, nodded. Viggo just smiled.
Viggo’s house was about fifteen minutes away, and it was too long. Elijah was nervous. He crossed and uncrossed his legs constantly, tapped his wrist on the window’s edge as he flicked ash into the wind. No speaking, Viggo had insisted, until they were back to his place. But all not speaking did was make Elijah’s mind race, race with anticipation and want. He hadn’t wanted to admit this, that he actually wanted Viggo. But now, sitting alone in a car with the man whose sexual prowess he had heard rumours about for months, he couldn’t help but be a little nervous, his veins positively thrumming with need. When they pulled into Viggo’s drive, Elijah hardly noticed that they had arrived, exiting the car as if his limbs were made of Jell-O. He followed Viggo wordlessly into the house, watched as he peeled off his jacket; threw his keys on the table. Viggo didn’t wear leather like a lot of the dominant men in the club, Elijah noticed, but then maybe Viggo didn’t have to. His reputation certainly preceded him, and Elijah suddenly felt silly standing in Viggo’s living room in tight leather trousers and a form-fitting black sweater. He, too, would be much more comfortable in jeans, but it was too late now.
“You may speak now,” Viggo announced, but Elijah found that despite the permission his mouth felt like cotton. “What do you want me to do to you?” he asked, and his voice was low and sultry, his head dipping just in the direction of Elijah’s ear but not quite touching it.
“I…” Elijah paused, thought for a moment, and drew a blank. “Do what you want to do to me,” he finally replied, and Viggo grinned broadly. Elijah couldn’t help but flush a bit with pride, knowing that he had said the right thing.
“You sure, Elijah?” Viggo asked, and his tone was dangerous. “I could hurt you,” he warned, just the tip of a tongue darting out to flick Elijah’s lobe.
“I… want you to,” Elijah replied, barely a whisper, his eyes blinking shut.
“Open your eyes!” Viggo barked, and Elijah obeyed immediately, wide pools of blue staring up expectantly at Viggo, who now stood face-to-face with Elijah. “You’re ashamed,” Viggo stated, and Elijah found it unnerving how Viggo never asked him a question. He just knew. “You like pain,” he continued. “It arouses you.” Elijah nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Have you enjoyed your other encounters like this, Elijah? Did you like having men hurt you?”
“I don’t know,” Elijah replied, and he was being honest. “I guess… I mean, I got off on it, but the guys… I guess I’m not really attracted to them. There’s not much of a…” He groped for the word, and Viggo just smiled, knowingly, lifting Elijah’s chin again to speak a fraction of a centimetre from his lips.
“Connexion?” Elijah nodded, and Viggo smiled again. “First rule, Elijah. It’s not just a game. You don’t do this separate from relationships, just for the sex, and expect to get something out of it.
“But you…” Viggo yanked hard on Elijah’s chin, and tears pricked at his eyes, immediately swallowing the thought.
“What I do or do not do is not really your business, Elijah. But I will tell you that yes, I have taken many men home. And, consistent with popular rumour, I have not yet found someone worth having a real relationship with.”
“Are…may I ask a question, sir?” Elijah asked in response to Viggo’s warning look, and Viggo smiled.
“You learn quickly, ‘Lijah. Yes you may.”
“Are you looking? For a relationship?” Viggo looked thoughtful, for a moment.
“I’m not sure.”
“Then me… why did you take me here?”
“Elijah, think about it. You’re my friend. I already have a relationship with you.” Elijah didn’t say what he wanted to, swallowed his response. I want more. Viggo, anyway, probably already knew. “Now you trust me, right?”
“I’d trust you with my life,” Elijah replied without hesitation, and Viggo smiled.
“Good. Perfect. I want to show you something. I want to show you trust. I know the men you’ve seen here, Elijah, and they aren’t interested in trust. They’re interested in… well, fucking. Not that that’s a bad thing, and believe me, I plan to fuck you…” The hitch in Elijah’s breath did not go unnoticed, but Viggo continued without pause. “… but I plan to do more, as well. I want to show you what loss of control is really about. Are you ready, do you think? Are you ready to learn?” Elijah nodded, enthusiastically, chin still in Viggo’s grip, and sighed lightly as a finger traced his jawbone. “Good. Come with me.”
Would you confess if we asked
That you nurture the urge?
To declare that it’s time
To settle down
With a man of your own
You want a baby
A family
A piece of security
Shut your mouth
Try not to panic
Just shut your mouth
If you can do it
Elijah blinked at the bed in front of him, and felt a sense of inevitably. This was it. Viggo, to his credit, started slow. He stepped up behind Elijah, casually, and ran his hands feather-light up Elijah’s sides, stroking the fabric of his sweater and making him instantly aroused and wanting more. In the past, it had never been this gentle, always in the house and fucking against the inside of the door, or maybe even against the brick wall in the alley behind the club, but that wasn’t Viggo. Viggo had class. And Elijah figured that Viggo could be whipping him with one hand, wanking with the other, and watching a plug twist and plunge in Elijah’s arse, and he would still have class. Elijah swallowed, realizing that wasn’t a great image to conjure at the moment, and blushed a deep crimson as Viggo laughed against his neck, his fingers just barely brushing the fabric of Elijah’s much-too-constraining trousers.
“Lovely,” Viggo whispered, and Elijah shivered in spite of himself. “So ready for me, and the night is yet young. But we can’t have you coming in your pants like a little boy, now can we?” he snarled, and Elijah’s cheeks flushed even redder. He would not make a fool out of himself in Viggo’s bed. He would not. Viggo’s fingers popped his fly open with one hand, lowered the zipper. His other hand cupped Elijah’s leather-clad arse once, giving an almost bruisingly firm squeeze before lowering the trousers all together. Elijah hadn’t bothered with the formality of pants under the leather, anticipating what would be to come late in the evening, and Viggo just let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing Elijah’s bare hip. “So ready…” he whispered again, but then he left Elijah standing alone at the foot of the bed, and Elijah knew without hearing any words that he was to remain still. Erect. Well, at least that wasn’t a problem.
Viggo grinned a little evilly when he returned, carrying some sort of leather contraption in one hand. “You ever been put in one of these?” he asked, and Elijah shook his head. Past experiences had mainly consisted of spanking, rough sex, maybe a few forced blowjobs, but his previous dominants hadn’t been too fancy when it came to equipment, at least not for a quick drunken shag. Elijah gasped as Viggo’s hand stroked the back of his thighs, then let his knee dig in to nudge them apart. Elijah obeyed and gasped again as Viggo pushed him forward, so that he was standing, legs spread liberally, leaning forward over the foot of the bed with his elbows bracing him. Viggo tugged Elijah’s sweater over his head, but left it bunched around the arms, restraining his movement slightly, as he reached down again and brushed Elijah’s balls. He shivered, clenched his fists, but tried his best to hold still as his balls were lowered into leather loops, leather and metal adjusted carefully as two rings went around his hardened shaft. He sucked in a breath when the contraption was fastened completely, and then felt Viggo’s smile against the back of his neck. “Now you can let your thoughts wander as much as you want, enjoy me all you like. You’re not going anywhere.” Elijah whimpered, just a bit, and Viggo laughed almost cruelly, pulling away and leaving Elijah painfully aware of the space between them. “You just love this, don’t you?” The question was rhetorical as Viggo’s gaze swept his exposed body. He hadn’t bothered wearing a tshirt underneath the sweater, somewhat masochistically enjoying the rough feeling of the knit fabric against his hardened nipples, and his skin was tinged just slightly pink from excitement. Viggo seemed to just stand there, staring, for hours, but it was in reality less than two minutes, and then Viggo was walking away again, rifling through a drawer. When he returned, Elijah’s sweater was removed from his arms and tossed to the floor, and Viggo patted him firmly on the bum. “On the bed,” he commanded, and Elijah scrambled quickly to obey. “On your knees. Pretty as you are, spread out like that, you’ll need a bit more of a brace for what I’m going to do to you,” he explained, and Elijah couldn’t help but hope. Again, he was pushed forward, but this time his wrists were cuffed with plain metal handcuffs, the chain looped around the centre rail of Viggo’s very sturdy-looking headboard. His eyes glazed over with lust as Viggo positioned him carefully, tugging his hips back, stretching his arms out straight in front of him, parting his knees slightly. “I want you to be able to tug tight when it hurts,” Viggo explained, and Elijah found his poor purpled erection growing impossible harder at the thought of what “it” might be. “Don’t look,” Viggo commanded, and he shut his eyes tight until he felt the first blow, eyes wrenching open again as the force slammed him forward. “Pull back, Elijah,” Viggo demanded roughly, voice all business now. He took a calming breath and pulled his arms taut again against the now expected forward force of the blow from what felt like a rubber-covered wooden paddle. The next blow rocked his pelvis forward as he kept his upper body stretched back, and he could have sworn he heard the smile in Viggo’s voice as he made his next order. “Count them.” In a shaky voice, but growing stronger with each smack, Elijah counted the blows that Viggo rained down on the tender flesh of his backside.
“Four…five…six…oh, fuck,” he whispered, unable to help himself as he felt the blood continue to surge to his dick, shutting his eyes against the painpleasurepain of being hit by Viggo while his cock and balls were tightly bound against a premature orgasm. “…seven…eight…nine…ten…oh more, please God,” he begged when Viggo paused briefly, and the older man just chuckled.
“Patience, Elijah,” Viggo soothed, running a gentle hand over his now rosy arse. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive,” he pointed out, and Elijah knew he shouldn’t be turned on so incredibly by that fact, but of course he was. “I’m not doing this for a quick climax, ‘Lij. I want to draw it out. Make you hurt slow, like a burn, creeping up through your veins and overwhelming your system until you can’t concentrate on anything else and all you could ever wish for is my dick, pounding your ass, filling you up. I’m going to keep going, Elijah, until orgasm isn’t even the goal anymore. Until all you want is the feel of my cock, the feel of my hands, the feel of my mouth. I’m going to make you burn until you don’t even care about your own pleasure anymore, and all you want is what I want for you. You understand?” Elijah breathed in sharply, thinking to himself that Viggo might make a hell of a lot more money on a phone sex line than with acting, but didn’t say it. He just nodded, panting, and then screamed as the next blow fell.
“Twelve… thirteen…”
When the treatment was finally over, all Elijah wanted was relief. A soothing touch, a hot bath…instead what he got was Viggo, leaning over and obscenely sucking at the red welts all over his arse, a wet tongue lapping across the abused skin. And Elijah found himself helpless to complain, instead breathing in short spurts and finding himself enjoying it very much indeed. “More,” he whimpered, almost not in control of his own voice, when Viggo pulled away. Viggo just laughed.
“More what?”
“More of this… more of anything… please… you decide… oh, God…” Viggo laughed again, and smoothed a soothing hand over Elijah’s lower back, placing a random kiss against his hair.
“Good boy. I think you’re almost ready.”
“For what?” Elijah whispered when no further explanation was given.
“To be taken. To be made mine.” Elijah gasped and found his arse pressing back of its own accord, wrists tugging painfully against their restraints.
“Please,” he whimpered, breathless, and Viggo just grinned and scraped his teeth along the curve of Elijah’s ear, avoiding the areas where he wanted to be touched most.
“You want this?” he asked, redundantly, smoothing his hand over Elijah’s arse and revelling in his sharp hiss. “You want me to fuck you, even like this, even so raw and painful?”
“Please…”
“It will hurt.”
“Hurt me,” Elijah whispered, desperate.
“What do you want, Elijah? You want a casual fuck out of this? You want the best ride of your life, something to remember long after you’ve kissed New Zealand goodbye?”
“I…” Elijah was embarrassed, and wished he could hide his face.
“Honesty, Elijah. Tell me what you want.”
“I… I want this again. And again. And more.” Viggo smiled against the nape of his neck and casually pressed a finger inside his arse, earning a pained yelp from the boy.
“You want to really be mine, Elijah? You want me to teach you everything I know?”
“Oh, God… Viggo, please. Everything. Everything. Yours. I’m yours,” he whimpered.
“I don’t believe you.” Two fingers.
“Yes… it’s true… please, Viggo, please. Anything. I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yes,” he hissed, bucking involuntarily against the third finger. But Viggo’s fingers abruptly left his ass, and he pulled back from Elijah, leaving him feeling very empty indeed.
“Even let me walk away? Will you spend the night here, without me, not even touch yourself, not allow yourself to come, if I ask you to? Will you do that for me?” Elijah inhaled, disappointed, but still nodded as he did so.
“Yes,” he replied, resigned but persistent, and then screamed as Viggo impaled him, his entire body attempting to jerk forward but restrained as Viggo grabbed his shoulders and tugged back, stretching his arms out painfully, yet again. Elijah didn’t care.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Viggo groaned. “So beautifully obedient,” he whispered, thrusting mercilessly as an endless litany of whimpers and cries escaped Elijah’s lips. “You would really do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, yes, oh God, yes!” Elijah exclaimed, tugging back on his own now with his arms, sitting up on his knees and allowing Viggo to slam into him as deep as he liked.
“Will you come for me?” Viggo growled into his ear.
“Yesssss….”
“Only for me, for no one else? Will you come with my name on your lips, and promise not even to touch yourself until I say it’s okay? Will you wait to come until I say it’s okay?” Elijah nodded vigorously, slamming his own hips back against Viggo’s despite the intense pain that blossomed across his skin.
“Yes, oh God, please, only you, only you…” Viggo reached down gingerly and released Elijah’s cock from its prison as he continued to fill him with every thrust, his fingers twisting and pinching Elijah’s nipples painfully. Elijah grit his teeth, shut his eyes, tried with all his might not to come on the spot. It was so hard, his cock was so hard, but he waited, held out for two more minutes as Viggo’s own orgasm was allowed to build, as his grunts increased in volume and he finally came with a loud groan inside Elijah, hissing “now… come for me, ‘Lijah,” as he rode out the waves of pleasure, and Elijah let go immediately, gasping, chanting Viggo’s name over and over in a hoarse half-scream as orgasm wracked his body. When it was over, he collapsed, limbless, and Viggo tenderly pulled out of Elijah’s abused body, tossing the used condom in the trash and disappearing into the bathroom, returning only to press a cool washcloth to Elijah’s ass, prompting first a hiss and then a chorus of sighs as Viggo attended to him as only a lover would. A few minutes later, when Viggo spooned up behind him and unlocked the cuffs, Elijah whispered uncertainly into the silence.
“You meant it, right? I mean you meant… it wasn’t just a fuck, for you? Because it wasn’t for me.” Viggo smiled, marveling at how quickly Elijah’s confidence returned, and how his normal sputtering waterfall pattern of speech resumed when he was no longer chained physically and mentally by Viggo’s command.
“Of course I meant it,” Viggo whispered, cradling Eliijah gently in his arms. “I never say things I don’t mean.” And Elijah, smiling gently on his way into sleep, believed him.
no subject
Cheers, rb
no subject