felinguistic | puppysword

[ oh, that's a nice arch. shiraishi moves to run a hand up one of hizamaru's sides, and down again, slow and deliberate. ]

Hm.

[ he sits back a little, letting go of hizamaru's hips so he can push down his own pants and slide them down and off his legs. once free, he leans forwards again. this time though, he gets a hand around hizamaru's wrists and pins those to the bed. ]

Isn't that half the excitement? People seek out that kind of adrenaline.

[ but, y'know. aphro. he does have an epic cuck war to win here, so he leans back down, using his free hand to push one of hizamaru's legs back and hitch it up. there's little in the way - limb or awkward angle wise - to prevent him from rocking his hips down again, a steady and slow pace, just bordering on the edge of not quite being enough. ]

Illumi-san does.

[There's nothing said, but his golden eyes are watchful, lingering on Shiraishi as the clothing comes off, lingering on the body after. He accepts Shiraishi again between his legs, lets his wrist get folded under a hand with only a shift of playful resistance.]

Do you?

[The leg that goes up has the most practiced, tantalizing flexibility. It's not in one long line so much as the angles of it are perfect, like an acrobat, but it matches the definition and thickness in his muscles. The rock gets a throaty hum, and partially bared sharp teeth.]

No.

[ his eyes are drawn to the leg. specifically the lack of resistance he feels when pushing it back. his hand slides a little higher, until it’s at the bend of his knee, and with a bit of manoeuvring, pushes it further up to rest over his shoulder.

he’s not particularly slow or coaxing about it, focusing more on whether he feels any resistance to the movement. when hizamaru’s leg is comfortably rested on his shoulder, he runs his hand back down it, only stopping at the curve of his ass. ]

I don’t really do adrenaline. Not like that.

[ well, here they are. and there are so many different options he could take right now. after a moment of thought, shiraishi reaches out to grab one of those just-chilling-over-here bottles of lube off the side. ]

[The leg obeys the instruction; it folds up over his shoulder, and there doesn't seem to be any pain or discomfort on his face at the position. But the muscles do quiver when the hand slides back down over the hot, exposed skin. His lashes flutter from the pleasant sensation.]

You like to watch.

[He's spent a good deal of time with Shiraishi so far. The man's eyes are always watching, Shiraishi is always watching. Where they are, his face, his movements.]

Do you want to watch me?

[ his eyebrows raise slightly at that -- almost like an accusation, but is followed with a very tempting offer instead. he leans down to plant a couple of kisses on hizamaru's neck, finishing with a sharp bite on the collar bone. ]

I've been watching you since we got in here. Are you going to put on a show?

[ because he's absolutely not going to protest.

[His hips jerk gently when the teeth sink into his collar. The leg, though, stays where it's at, mostly because with Shiraishi's shoulder in the way, it can't go anywhere.]

I don't mind if you watch me. Dimitri-san enjoyed watching. Do you want me to put on a show, Shiraishi-san?

[ oh, well that's noted. dimitri is a voyeur. ]

That's what all you swords do, isn't it? Put on a show.

[ he shifts back a little, hand moving to keep the leg supported with the movement. ]</small. Go on then. Entertain me.

We perform for our master sometimes, yes.

[Reaching up, he takes the wrist of Shiraishi's hand which has the bottle. Instead of taking it away, he guides Shiraishi's hand over himself so he can remove the top, and then he urges the fingers to squeeze the slick liquid out. It pools in light rivulets over his chest, down his stomach, between his legs, and then he lets Shiraishi go.]

You can watch me, Shiraishi-san, but please take care of me when I become impatient.

[He leaves his leg in Shiraishi's care, and he raises the other up by placing the arch of his foot on Shiraishi's hip and thigh. One hand caresses himself down the middle of his chest, fingers picking up the liquid along the way. The stomach tightens and rolls at the sensation. He squirms pleasantly the lower he goes, until he can take himself in one fist and stroke languidly. His eyes don't leave Shiraishi's face.]

A show with conditions, then.

[ when his hand is free, he moves the bottle out of the way, setting it down on the bed within arm's length of them.

shiraishi shifts himself slightly so he's more comfortable, lowering his weight onto his forearm, but still able to watch what hizamaru is doing. his eyes follow the path of his hands, down over trembling muscles, before flickering up to meet that unerring stare.

he can feel his lips twitch into a sort of smile, as he watches for hizamaru's actions to be reflected in his eyes again - hazy, and pleasured. it only takes a moment for him to make a decision, curling his arm slightly so he can reach and dig fingers in to run through hizamaru's hair. after a moment, they stop that slow, soothing moment in favour of a slow but firm tug. ]

[Steady and rhythmically, he pulls on himself, arching his lower back to give himself a better angle at the hips. The fingers are met with a murmur, and his eyes flutter closed out of reflex.

When the pull comes, his head follows without resistance, and he lets out a moaned gasp. His fingers squeeze himself at the thickest part, and he moans again, more quietly. His eyes open, but only partially. They stare upward at nothing in particular for a long few moments as he works himself, like he's concentrating on the pleasant burn settling below his navel.

The expanse of his face flushes, and his chest and arms prickle with a wave of goosebumps. His other hand joins the first, and he gives himself a double-handed tug once before the joining hand skirts up over his stomach toward his pectorals. He kneads one, but it's the nipple his fingers are more concerned with than anything else.]

[ that was a good reaction. better than he'd expected. slowly, he pulls at those locks of hair, backwards this time to expose more of hizamaru's neck. he holds it there, just a little on the long side, before leaning down and trailing a line of bites down the muscle of his neck.

he moves back again to watch that hand trail up to pinch at a nipple, and admire the flush spreading over cheeks and colouring the other man's neck. the darkened patches of skin heralding the start of brusing where shiraishi's own teeth have marked and bitten.

he really needs that other arm right now. it takes a little shifting to let that leg hooked over his shoulder drop down, and coax it around his waist, but once it's there both his hands free, one to keep that pressure in hizamaru's hair, and the other to balance him as he leans down to press lips against his ear. ]

You enjoy putting on this sort of show, don't you? The attention, someone's eyes on you. [ he shifts himself back up and spreads his free palm over hizamaru's other pectoral, thumb brushing against the other nipple. still watching. ]

[Everything is toeing that line with being a bit rough, and it keeps him antsy. He bends his head, gladly brandishing his neck for Shiraishi's mouth and teeth. It feels like not enough, and he whimpers faintly when Shiraishi pulls away.

The hot words in his ear make him shiver. Under Shiraishi's hand, his chest heaves gently, splotched red across the skin. His own fingers falter when Shiraishi's take up the tease of his opposite nipple, and he tries not to increase the pace of his fist because he really doesn't have the sexual stamina yet to play it out.]

I liked... sitting by... my master's cushion and... being on display.

[ he angles his thumb a little, so he's dragging his nail over the nipple a couple of times and then repeats the motion with the flat of his thumb. ]

Like a prize, or a decoration first, just to admired.

[ he certain has the way of angling himself, putting himself on that sort of display even lying flat on his back on a bed. admirable, in its own way. the little shivers and twitches like signals to sensitivity. ]

I don't mind admiring. But sometimes you do have to get hands on with things.

[ he slides a hand down from hizamaru's chest, through the streaks of lube still damp on his stomach, and just raises an questioning eyebrow at him. ]

[His hips buck lightly when the nail catches his nipple. He almost moans, but it escapes more as a ragged gasp than anything else.] I was... longer... so he kept me there... since he believed my smith made me well... [His hand pulls at himself, and he closes his thighs ever so slightly to try to hone himself into behaving.

Shiraishi's hand doesn't help. His body rolls under it, following it. Strangely to him, it's so different when someone else is touching him. The sensation isn't quite the same as touching himself. His lips part, but he doesn't ask what he really wants to ask. Instead, his golden eyes are pleading, begging.

Touch him, touch him.]

[ swords are so wild, honestly.

his motions are quicker and more precise when he sees that look in hizamaru's eyes - wide and pleading. grabbing his wrists, he gathers them in one hand again and uses the free one to slip inbetween his thighs and slowly, but insistently, coax them open again. ]

If you want something, you should ask for it.

[ he's just. reaching out for that lube bottle once he's got hizamaru's legs as far apart as he deems fit, and squeezing some of it out. but he doesn't go any further. go on then. ask for what you want, don't just plead for it with your eyes. ]

[Though his thighs fold open easily again under Shiraishi's hand, he looks like he isn't sure if it's really okay to be asking. Not because of what he's asking for, and not because it's Shiraishi. Because it's him, and because Higekiri is always the one he's stayed shying behind.

He can't be better than Higekiri, and that means he can't step forward in front, can't ask for things he wants for himself. Slowly, his lashes lower some, and he arches insistently again.

Finally, the eyes open, focused on Shiraishi's face.] I want you to use me, Shiraishi-san... For what makes you feel good. If it's inside of me or touching me. [It seems like an earnest request rather than something a sycophant would say.] I want it to happen again.

When it feels like my spirit is being stolen.

[ that's something then. the same request, but more self assured and more aware of what he wants from it. that's more enjoyable -- and far more interesting. ]

Hmm.

[ he moves his hand to get more of the lube over it, before reaching down and taking hizamaru in hand. his grip is loose and definitely not enough to satisfy hizamaru, but enough to keep him teetering in that area of too little and too much. the pace is slow and steady. ]

An orgasm, you mean?

[ what an over the top way of putting it. still, he's methodical in his preparations, getting a decent amount of lube over his fingers as well. when he's satisfied he slips the hand down lower, brushing fingers against hizamaru's entrance.

i can't make that sound poetic or nice, i'm sorry. ]

[time to be unsex and say naughty words

A quiet, trilling hum vibrates through his chest when Shiraishi takes is cock in hand. His hips rock down and up, slow at first, and then more needy, like he can encourage Shiraishi to increase the pace or something.] Ah... is that... what it's... called? [No one so far has given him a name or a phrase for orgasm.]

At the end, when it's over. It feels very good... I want to feel it again.

[His wrists twist in Shiraishi's grip without trying to break free. The movement isn't enough? He tries to roll his hips faster, but the hand disappears, and he does whimper until the fingers brush lower. Eagerly, he raises his knees some, giving Shiraishi room.]

[ gasp

he doesn't tighten his grip, he just keeps the pace up, moving his hand in time with the rocking of hizamaru's hips. ]

That's what it's called.

[ he slides his free hand up under hizamaru's knee to keep his leg pushed back and -- well, give the enthusiastic response to it, presses one of his fingers in, slowly but steadily. ]

[The rocking of his hips freezes in place. He draws in a long, low, but very pleased inhale. Shiraishi has control to settle the finger in correctly while his head rolls back, his flushed throat bared. And then, unable to help it, he hooks his heels down and rocks his hips--up and again down on the finger.

He moans softly and encouragingly.]

Give me that then... Shiraishi-san.

[ it's no difficulty to keep his wrist moving at a steady pace - keeping it in time with the stroking of his other hand. he shifts the angle of his fingers ever few slow thrusts, experimentally like he's looking for something but in no particular rush to find it.

it's more fun, almost, to see what motions drag what noises out of the other man. if he tightens his grip at the same time as thrusting his hand a little harder, what kind of sound will he get? it's distracting enough that he can keep his focus on this and not his own arousal, at least. ]

[Very quietly, he whispers, “Please,” for no real reason. There isn’t anything holding his wrists down, but strangely, he has not dared move them so far from over his head. Not until Shiraishi’s hands almost connect—one thrusts downward on him and one thrusts upward in him.

His moan is, for once, louder and appreciatively extended. One of his hands shoots to Shiraishi’s forearm; it doesn’t move the arm at all, only curls nails into it like he’s gripping a lifeline. The other stays above him so he can turn his hot face into the crook of it, eyes squeezed shut.

He holds a breath for a long time, and when it busts gently out, he’s left ragged.]

[ he pauses slightly when he feels the dig of nails into his arm, and after a moment of contemplation, he pulls his finger out to get to the lube and squeeze more onto them. when he moves his hand back, it's to press two fingers in this time, and slip back into that rhythm again.

he leans down this time to bite hizamaru's collarbone again - but he lingers this time, teeth marking and focusing on the skin there until he's satisfied with the reddening mark being left behind. ]

[Two fingers is not quite as filling as other things, but it sure is enough. When the first one leaves, he whines hoarsely in displeasure, but then almost immediately draws in a heavy breath when two join the vacancy. His fingers latch onto Shiraishi's forearm again, and he moans through his teeth.

His other arm threads around the back of Shiraishi's shoulders when the man leans over him. The fingers tangle in the hair, but don't pull or yank. He moans under the teeth, head back to give more room. It's Shiraishi's hand on his cock that is the most worrisome of everything. It's drawing the burn from his navel down, making him squirm.]

[ shiraishi feels the tug in his hair, a tangle rather than forcible, and can feel a smile twitch on his lips. ]

You're still not asking for what you want, hm?

[ oh well. it seems like hizamaru's enjoying himself, in spite of his lack of verbal confirmations or suggestions. he frees his hand from hizamaru long enough to reach for his discarded pants and dig into one of the pockets. he pulls something out and sets it on the bed, just within reach, before returning his attention to everything in front of him.

his palm slides up the underside of hizamaru's (SIGHS) cock, and uses that as a distraction to ease a third finger in - professional and precise. ]

puppysword

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"people are dead" us: tags smut during trial

look my braincell checked out at like 11:30pm when i fell asleep on the sofa, it's fine

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