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kinkfestTitle- A Good Thing
Author-![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fireun
Rating- PG13
Prompt- Schuldig/Yohji - Dominance and submission - "I don't want to think."
Notes- late, I apologize. Internet issues
It was one of those situations Yohji couldn’t exactly remember getting himself into and had no way out of. It was a Technicolor nightmare of garish clothes, startling hair, and far too vivid eyes. Schuldig’s lips were sweet with the sugar from the end of a clove cigarette, his breath spicy. His lips were chapped slightly, the cool fall air preying upon his habit of gnawing at his lips when thinking too deeply. Schuldig’s eyes smiled at all the wrong times, while his hands managed to find all the right places.
Yohji hissed as Schuldig traced a particularly sensitive spot with one nail, and wished he had had enough to drink to explain away his current predicament.
“Predicament? Your sense of humor is amazing. You all but begged for me.”
Yohji winced as his mind fumbled back through the past handful of minutes. Eyes caught from across a mostly empty bar. Knowing a bad idea when it kicked him in the gut, but unable to care. He always was attracted to that which was no good for him…
‘Oh, I can be good for you.’ Schuldig took one of Yohji’s earlobes in his teeth, pulled just enough to spark the first hint of pain. ‘Or at least good to you.’ Schuldig’s hands were everywhere, flitting between expanses of flesh like spastic butterflies, never staying long enough for Yohji to get used to the sensation, brushing lightly enough to startle or digging deep enough to burn before skipping away. Yohji was in a panicked state of arousal, desperate for the next sensation, hoping it would be enough to bring him up and get him off. It never was. Schuldig rode the edge of his desire, taunting, teasing, never giving satisfaction.
‘Ask.’
Yohji panted, mouth open, eyes closed so he didn’t have to see the smile that was twisted all through Schuldig’s telepathy.
‘Beg.’
It wasn’t pride that kept him from asking, it may have been a thick cocktail of morality and self preservation, whatever it was, it was almost as much of a turn on as Schuldig’s tongue as it wandered across his stomach.
‘I can taste it, how badly you want it.’
It was far too complicated. Yohji didn’t want to think for once, just wanted to feel.
“Then don’t think.” Schuldig’s voice was a surprise, thick and rough as Yohji’s panting breath with desire.
It was the only way out, giving in and letting things progress to their illogical conclusion.
Schuldig’s skin was soft, stretched over sharp angles made from hard living and poor decisions. He tasted of soap, sweat, and cigarettes, and was given to a delightful running dialogue when aroused. He demanded and exclaimed, purred and snarled, and bent Yohji over a table in the bar he had cleared out with a telepathic swipe sometime earlier, though Yohji didn’t remember when.
Schuldig knew just how to move, when to slow down, when to speed up, his brain wound so tight around Yohji’s it was hard to tell when one orgasm started and the other ended. Yohji stretched and pulled himself off of the table, frowning slightly at the pull of flesh across shoulder blades where Schuldig had bit down hard in approval. Schuldig lit a clove, and failed to offer one, before tossing more than enough to cover both their drinks onto the table previously occupied by Yohji’s lanky, moaning frame and sauntering off.
‘After all, too much of a good thing isn’t healthy.’
Author-
fireun Rating- PG13
Prompt- Schuldig/Yohji - Dominance and submission - "I don't want to think."
Notes- late, I apologize. Internet issues
It was one of those situations Yohji couldn’t exactly remember getting himself into and had no way out of. It was a Technicolor nightmare of garish clothes, startling hair, and far too vivid eyes. Schuldig’s lips were sweet with the sugar from the end of a clove cigarette, his breath spicy. His lips were chapped slightly, the cool fall air preying upon his habit of gnawing at his lips when thinking too deeply. Schuldig’s eyes smiled at all the wrong times, while his hands managed to find all the right places.
Yohji hissed as Schuldig traced a particularly sensitive spot with one nail, and wished he had had enough to drink to explain away his current predicament.
“Predicament? Your sense of humor is amazing. You all but begged for me.”
Yohji winced as his mind fumbled back through the past handful of minutes. Eyes caught from across a mostly empty bar. Knowing a bad idea when it kicked him in the gut, but unable to care. He always was attracted to that which was no good for him…
‘Oh, I can be good for you.’ Schuldig took one of Yohji’s earlobes in his teeth, pulled just enough to spark the first hint of pain. ‘Or at least good to you.’ Schuldig’s hands were everywhere, flitting between expanses of flesh like spastic butterflies, never staying long enough for Yohji to get used to the sensation, brushing lightly enough to startle or digging deep enough to burn before skipping away. Yohji was in a panicked state of arousal, desperate for the next sensation, hoping it would be enough to bring him up and get him off. It never was. Schuldig rode the edge of his desire, taunting, teasing, never giving satisfaction.
‘Ask.’
Yohji panted, mouth open, eyes closed so he didn’t have to see the smile that was twisted all through Schuldig’s telepathy.
‘Beg.’
It wasn’t pride that kept him from asking, it may have been a thick cocktail of morality and self preservation, whatever it was, it was almost as much of a turn on as Schuldig’s tongue as it wandered across his stomach.
‘I can taste it, how badly you want it.’
It was far too complicated. Yohji didn’t want to think for once, just wanted to feel.
“Then don’t think.” Schuldig’s voice was a surprise, thick and rough as Yohji’s panting breath with desire.
It was the only way out, giving in and letting things progress to their illogical conclusion.
Schuldig’s skin was soft, stretched over sharp angles made from hard living and poor decisions. He tasted of soap, sweat, and cigarettes, and was given to a delightful running dialogue when aroused. He demanded and exclaimed, purred and snarled, and bent Yohji over a table in the bar he had cleared out with a telepathic swipe sometime earlier, though Yohji didn’t remember when.
Schuldig knew just how to move, when to slow down, when to speed up, his brain wound so tight around Yohji’s it was hard to tell when one orgasm started and the other ended. Yohji stretched and pulled himself off of the table, frowning slightly at the pull of flesh across shoulder blades where Schuldig had bit down hard in approval. Schuldig lit a clove, and failed to offer one, before tossing more than enough to cover both their drinks onto the table previously occupied by Yohji’s lanky, moaning frame and sauntering off.
‘After all, too much of a good thing isn’t healthy.’
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