Oh, you poor slut. I'm sure you wish that were true, but I intend to make you suffer.
[ The words are so at odds with his tone. It's so pleasantly full; Kaoru can hear the smile on his lips, as if he were commenting on the lovely weather or complimenting a smart tie. And that, in context, could be absolutely terrifying. Here he stands, holding a knife to Kaoru's face, shoving him around with rougher hands than he's ever dared with such a blooming flower of a man, and sounding for all the world as if it means nothing to him.
And that's how Kaoru knows, how he can draw the very apt conclusion, that this is all cerebral for Ainosuke. All psychological. Every part of this dance was decided, calculated, long before Kaoru ever stepped into the kitchen. Because that, as always, is how Ainosuke and Kaoru keep each other on their toes. Strategy. Intellect. Each poised at opposite sides of a chessboard, without either one knowing which is ahead of the game.
Just like this. Ainosuke holds the reins because Kaoru has handed them to him. He can be as mean and hurtful and raw as he pleases, but if Kaoru ever threw the flag, it would be over in an instant without any questions asked, and that? That is power. The real power. And both of them know it. ]
Now you be good. Stay still and keep your fucking mouth shut, and maybe I'll let you leave here in one piece.
[ Ainosuke works his belt open while he speaks, then the clasp and zipper of his slacks, all orchestrated so that Kaoru can hear every deliberate move. To stoke the anticipation (or the terror, as it were). His slacks hang loose at his hips, and his cock is already achingly hard when he eases it out, to press in a hard grind between Kaoru's ass cheeks. It's a slow arc, head pushing from Kaoru's tailbone to perineum, then back again.
That's all the warning he gets before Ainosuke sinks in, teeth grit against a soft groan, straight down to the hilt. ]
[ Ainosuke sounds like he has a dozen things more important to do than this, and it gets under Kaoru's skin exactly as it must be intended. Despite his outward struggle, there is such a strong underlying urge in him to win Ainosuke's attention, his praise. Even if he's meant to be the prey here, it's obvious that his lover is capable of playing to his weaknesses to further break down any resistance that Kaoru manages to feign. Though it's up to him to communicate when something is too much and trust that Ainosuke would stop and care for him, there's also his need to please the one dominating him, the one feeding his desire for such utterly fucked up treatment. ]
Fine, I won't give you the satisfaction of making me scream.
[ That's going to be another challenge entirely, however, because he already wants to beg Ainosuke to hurry up. He can hear the clink of his belt and even feel it brush against his ass, another cold point of metal on heated skin. When he feels the first rub of cock he swallows down a moan and tenses from head to toe with anticipation. A moment later and he's willing himself to relax as much as possible, predicting a prod but never a full push to send him balls deep into Kaoru. The ghost of an orgasm rattles through him, muscles spasming with pleasure as he lets out a single sob. Even with the pleasure sparking through him it isn't enough, unsatisfying where his cock is half hard and yet aching for release. ]
[ A dichotomous rush fills Ainosuke in the wake of that quiet sob. It pulls at him like the counterbalance of a scale; the part of him that adores Kaoru and wants nothing more than to comfort him after all the pain Ainosuke's caused, diametrically opposed to the part of him that wants to ruin Kaoru so completely that he'll never again want for anything but Ainosuke. And how is he meant to rectify that, really? How can he long to love and destroy Kaoru in equal measure? How -- above all -- can Kaoru want something this fractured?
Perhaps Ainosuke will never understand it. Perhaps it's not wholesome, healthy. Perhaps it won't last. But Ainosuke will leave so many pieces of himself in Kaoru -- on Kaoru -- that the ghost of him will linger. This love will haunt Kaoru unyielding, just as it's haunted Ainosuke all this time. He'll never be free of it; not if Ainosuke has any hand in nailing this coffin shut.
It's only turnabout, only fair. Sunk deep in Kaoru's body, Ainosuke could swear he's found Eden, at long and last. Nothing can touch them here, and it's desecrated everything Ainosuke's known to be holy. A new religion, in the word of Kaoru's body. Ainosuke's knuckles crack around the knife, grip squeezed tight around the handle, a subtle reminder to ground himself as his mind starts to wander. After all, he's playing the villain tonight. He has to follow through. ]
Awfully tight, for a little whore.
[ It's a low growl amid the first mean crash of his hips against Kaoru's ass. Mercy is a hard-won notion for Ainosuke, and Kaoru rarely knows it. He sets a heady pace from the start, pistoning hard and bottoming out deep. And after a few moments of driving Kaoru's hips to bruise against the edge of the granite countertop, Ainosuke hooks a forearm over Kaoru's shoulder, one long hand curling around the delicate column of Kaoru's throat and taking either side in a tight grip to anchor. ]
[ Perhaps this dynamic isn't built to last, the foundation crumbling and the walls cracked beneath a veneer of paint, but maybe Kaoru's love for Ainosuke that has endured since their youth could be enough to fill in the gaps. He knows that there is something deeply traumatized about Ainosuke, even if he hasn't talked about it yet—and that is something that Kaoru will never push at because he knows how difficult it can be to face such things, let alone speak of them to others. But there is undeniable beauty in the chaos of Ainosuke's design and a passion that draws others to him like a sun demanding orbit. Kaoru has flown too close on several occasions, burned time and time again by the foolish thought that this time, maybe he's built his wings to outlast the heat. This time it feels like they may burn out together for once, wrapped up in one another now that they've found a way to match their jagged edges into a rough whole.
Kaoru, unlike Ainosuke, is painfully aware of the moment and hears each pop of joints in his hand as his grip on the knife shifts. He barely has the time to steady his breathing and further relax his tense body before Ainosuke begins to thrust, let alone come up with a reply to that comment that goes right to his gut. Ainosuke knows that such terms eat at him, implying he's unfaithful when he is as devote in his love as Adam was to Eden. Kaoru makes for a poor Eve when he has little to tempt Ainosuke with, though maybe this could be the beginning of a spiral down into hell, hand in hand.
The pain of the hard counter against his hips keeps Kaoru focused in the moment, biting his bottom lip hard enough to bruise and even break skin after a particularly hard thrust. He has to let go of it to suck in a breath as all air is driven from his body in Ainosuke's selfish pursuit of satisfaction. There is no angling of his hips to reach Kaoru's prostate, no slow and sensual build of tension to coax him to climax. He's being used as a tool for Ainosuke's pleasure, and he's gagging for it. It only gets worse—better—with one of his large hands closing around his throat and stealing his breath away again. ]
Choices? [ He barely gets the word out and chokes around it as he does, struggling to regain the air lost on the simple question. ]
Chasing me like you do. It's like you beg for this.
[ There is, perhaps, too much truth in that statement. Kaoru's devotion is every bit as sweet as it is foolish. Why does Kaoru follow, no matter how much distance Ainosuke puts between them? Why must he snap back like a bowstring, crash into Ainosuke every time, and then sink his claws in deep? Maybe it will never make sense, and trying to find reason in this seems pointless. Like he's rousing dogs better left to sleep. But let it never be said that Ainosuke didn't try to sabotage this.
It's too late now, after all. They're in too hard, too deep. Kaoru knows what he's gotten into, he's literally asked for this, and Ainosuke will turn feral before he lets Kaoru go now. To that end, he'll stake his claim in no uncertain terms. Kaoru will know who he belongs to -- whose heart he's taken, and who's taken his heart -- and he'll know it beyond the shadow of a doubt until the day he dies.
Ainosuke's cock sinks deep, and his hand curls tighter around Kaoru's throat as his hips still. ]
Maybe you need a memento. Something to remind you of exactly who you're dealing with.
[ The knife shifts in Ainosuke's grip again, and Kaoru can feel the sharp prick of the tip against his shoulderblade. Ainosuke is rapt, transfixed on the clean sink of the blade through Kaoru's skin, the blood that swells up in its wake. It glides through so smoothly, just like ink on paper, six tidy lines perfectly pulling the shape of a heart through Kaoru's flesh. It bleeds, paints Kaoru in streaks of deep and lovely red, and Ainosuke's hips stutter, overwhelmed all over again by Kaoru's beauty, by his love-- ]
My God, look at you.
[ Ainosuke licks his lips, and then arches down over Kaoru's back to lap up the blood in one long drag of his tongue. With a quiet groan, he resumes his hard drive into Kaoru's body. He's so close, so high, he can practically taste it on the back of his throat with the lingering metallic burn of Kaoru's blood. And still, his tone is so sweet, so fond when he moans: ]
[ Ah, those choices. The choices that felt like they had been made for him the moment he set eyes on this creature of chaos, beautiful and dangerous in his daredevil approach to skating and life. Adam is an entirely different drug than anything else that Kaoru has ever experienced, and he'd been addicted from the start; Ainosuke has been a sweet counterpoint, dedicated and surprisingly selfless at times. It feels like loving two men at times, but Kaoru feels honored to know them both let alone entertain their affection. So does Kaoru beg for this? Yes, and he will continue to chase it for the rest of his life.
Ainosuke stills inside of him, deep and close, and it makes Kaoru shiver bodily with the sensation of being so full. It's cruel treatment when Ainosuke knows how much Kaoru loves this, loves simply holding as much of him inside as possible and reveling in the subtle pressure of it. The matching press of Ainosuke's palm against his throat adds to the sensation of it all, of being pushed around and molded into a perfect toy for Ainosuke's pleasure and enjoyment. The words barely register in Kaoru's mind as it goes foggy from all of his guilty mental enjoyment of this along with the low supply of oxygen. Memento? Kaoru will take anything Ainosuke gifts to him with open arms.
The first touch of the knife almost doesn't register in his mind, feeling the same as a bite of teeth or scratch of nails with which he's intimately familiar. But then it continues, longer and deeper and hot despite how cold the metal had felt against his skin. It cuts through him, he knows it logically, but the pain mixes with pleasure until Kaoru can't tell if he's being cut or kissed. The sudden movement of Ainosuke's hips only adds to the confusion, pushing him impossibly deeper and rubbing against Kaoru's prostate to fill him with a wave of pleasure that overwrites the sting. He must be screaming, or maybe moaning, or some kind of sound that barely makes it past the weight of Ainosuke's hand against his throat.
There is so much sensation all at once, overwhelming and swirling into a muddled mess that his body simply decides must all be pleasure. It's dizzying and confusing and Kaoru simply gives up all logic to allow Ainsouke to take care of the thinking. He turns pliant in the arms holding him, muscles relaxing around Ainosuke's cock to allow him to sink deeper as he starts thrusting forward again. All of the fight has been cut out of him as well as the desperation for pleasure; all that's left is being good for Ainosuke so that he'll give Kaoru more of his love in whatever form he chooses. ]
[ Ainosuke knows that expression. He's intimately familiar with the bliss that melts into Kaoru's features amid some of their rougher play, and he also knows the danger that comes with it; that, while this is Kaoru at his most rapt and subservient, it's also the surest sign that Ainosuke needs to approach everything with a more discerning eye. But that's precisely what Kaoru's entrusted him with, and though it's tempting -- comes with its own rush of sick satisfaction -- Ainosuke knows better than to abuse the privilege.
In any case, the knife is impeding his ability to maneuver Kaoru around, and that simply won't do. Metal clatters against granite when Ainosuke tosses it away, pushes it out of reach across the counter, and his grip finds Kaoru's hip instead. Ainosuke angles them up, tilts them to make it that much easier to drive his cock into Kaoru's hungry body. And in many a different scenario, Ainosuke would strive to bring Kaoru over with him, but that's not the point of this. Kaoru wants to feel used and worthless, and Ainosuke's all too happy to indulge the baser side of himself in turn.
Hot, tight, velvet, his. Kaoru is his. He's literally marked as such, in tight cuts, in blood seeping down his back. All of him, all for Ainosuke. In the end, that notion alone is Ainosuke's undoing. His hips stagger, falter in their rhythm, tighter, higher, and then Ainosuke comes with a muffled cry through clenched teeth. He shakes, throbs and spills into Kaoru, fingers rigid in their grip around his throat and hip, holding him still through Ainosuke's end. Awash in pleasure, drowning in completeness, love and love and love...
And even while he's still catching his breath, Ainosuke manages to be mean about it. The way he pulls himself too quickly from Kaoru's body, to let his sex drip down the inside of those well-loved thighs. The way he shoves Kaoru away, discards him over the countertop and takes a step back. The way he parts from Kaoru completely, and smirks sideways the mess he's made of him. Ainosuke drinks it all in, every hint of red he's painted over Kaoru's skin, and the entire tableau is utterly hypnotic. ]
I'd tell you to clean yourself up if I thought you were worth the good linens.
[ The sharp sound of metal on granite should be jarring to Kaoru, but he feels like his head is underwater, or maybe up in clouds. Everything is a bit muffled and his vision is swimming, eyes surely glazed over from all the stimulation his body is being bombarded with. All he really knows is that another of Ainosuke's hands is on him, grip harsh enough that it will bruise Kaoru's pale skin for several days. More marks for him to admire later when he's alone and naked in front of the full-length mirror in Ainosuke's bedroom—the bites and scrapes and bruises and now, the permanent mark of Ainosuke's heart cut into his skin. Maybe he'll still be dripping come then, too, because he hopes that this first orgasm won't be Ainosuke's last for the evening.
Moaning—maybe sobbing—at the warmth that fills him and gets fucked deep inside of him, Kaoru must reach his own orgasm as pleasure crests and shakes through him. He can't really tell, not when his senses are so focused on Ainosuke and how close he is and then how he's just gone without a word. Kaoru does sob, then, sharp and loud as he slumps over the counter that provides the only support for him while his legs shake and fail to hold any of his weight. There are tears cooling on his cheeks, and he looks over his shoulder up at Ainosuke with wide, pleading eyes. ]
I can be good, I can do more. Let me do more, please.
There will be no complaints from Ainosuke. When Kaoru is like this, Ainosuke has to make certain decisions in his better interest, and ferret out that delicate place where hurt does more harm than good. It's a conversation to have later, should they elect to pursue this fantasy again; Ainosuke won't presume to know Kaoru's limits when he's past the point of capably expressing them. He won't push any more tonight, but that doesn't mean he's finished with Kaoru either.
Ainosuke's voice is warm and full through a low hum when he steps up behind Kaoru again. His hand is gentle when it pushes through Kaoru's hair, soothing away the ache from where he'd pulled too hard earlier. ]
You've been so good tonight, Kaoru. You did very well. Let me look at you for a moment. You're perfectly gorgeous when I'm dripping down your legs like this.
[ There's no insincerity in the statement. Ainosuke's gaze is too fixated for this to be anything less than adoration, but it may be falling short of the entire truth. His free hand drifts down Kaoru's back, and the tip of his middle finger pauses to turn a few slow circles around the periphery of the weeping wound he's left there. How beautifully he wears it. Blood has always looked especially enchanting on Kaoru's skin, but this is a dangerous precedent. Ainosuke would gladly carve up every spare corner of Kaoru's skin, etch in his love as sharp and deep as conceivably possible if it means seeing him like this again.
Kaoru can feel the effect of it in very short order, when Ainosuke's hands move to his thighs and push them tight together, room left only for the deliberate slide of Ainosuke's cock between them. ]
Keep your whore legs together for once, darling. Nice and tight around my cock, understood?
[ It may feel like the end of the scene for Ainosuke, but Kaoru is too entrenched to flip the switch so quickly. He seeks out queues from his lover, though, looking to him for answers while his own brain is too high on endorphins to form any coherent thoughts that aren't about getting that cock back inside of him. Kaoru doesn't move as Ainosuke steps closer, just in case he wants him to stay put, but he sighs happily at the fingers in his hair that is so close to coming out of its ponytail that the hair tie is hanging on to the ends by sheer will alone. ]
Mm, good for you, Ainosuke. [ He tilts his head into his hand, all on the fight completely fucked out of him at this point. The road they've traveled together now splits in two directions where either they continue with the brutal sex despite Kaoru no longer being able to keep up the pretense of not consenting, or they begin the aftercare and don't push the luck on how long it will take Kaoru to drop this time. He's still riding the high of subspace for now, the faint touch to the cuts on his back feeling like sweet caresses rather than painful probing.
Gasping a little as his legs are pushed together, he quickly gets the idea and hooks his ankles around each other to add tension and tighten the muscles around Ainosuke's dick. Even if he aches to be fucked again, he's reached the point where he's a good and obedient toy. ]
Yes, my good boy. Just like that, you infuriating creature.
[ Kaoru's thighs are softer than they have any right to be. Physically speaking, these legs are one of Kaoru's finest attributes (though certainly not the finest; Ainosuke would topple empires for that stunning face). Long, shapely, smooth, pale. Fucking between them is very nearly as sweet as burying his cock in that greedy hole, and at the moment, Ainosuke can't decide which he likes better. Perhaps it's weighted unfairly. He's still achingly sensitive, overstimulated, shaking against a pleasure like wildfire stinging across every nerve.
And he won't be the only one enjoying this agony. Ainosuke guides Kaoru's hips away from the counter and angles him up enough to slip one hand beneath. Stroking Kaoru's cock may be equal parts kindness and torture at this juncture; his tight grip, the thumb pressing over and over Kaoru's slick head, all to coax him back to nigh-unbearable arousal under Ainosuke's touch. ]
Mm, do you know, I think I'll defile you like this at my next fundraising event. [ Ainosuke practically purrs, shivering through each slide of his cock between Kaoru's thighs, humming through each stroke. ] Parade you around like my pretty toy all night. Bend you over a counter in the restroom, hike up your kimono, and fuck these beautiful thighs. Make you wear my cum on your legs for the rest of the evening while we're meeting with lobbyists. How would you like that, my sweet blossom?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ The words are so at odds with his tone. It's so pleasantly full; Kaoru can hear the smile on his lips, as if he were commenting on the lovely weather or complimenting a smart tie. And that, in context, could be absolutely terrifying. Here he stands, holding a knife to Kaoru's face, shoving him around with rougher hands than he's ever dared with such a blooming flower of a man, and sounding for all the world as if it means nothing to him.
And that's how Kaoru knows, how he can draw the very apt conclusion, that this is all cerebral for Ainosuke. All psychological. Every part of this dance was decided, calculated, long before Kaoru ever stepped into the kitchen. Because that, as always, is how Ainosuke and Kaoru keep each other on their toes. Strategy. Intellect. Each poised at opposite sides of a chessboard, without either one knowing which is ahead of the game.
Just like this. Ainosuke holds the reins because Kaoru has handed them to him. He can be as mean and hurtful and raw as he pleases, but if Kaoru ever threw the flag, it would be over in an instant without any questions asked, and that? That is power. The real power. And both of them know it. ]
Now you be good. Stay still and keep your fucking mouth shut, and maybe I'll let you leave here in one piece.
[ Ainosuke works his belt open while he speaks, then the clasp and zipper of his slacks, all orchestrated so that Kaoru can hear every deliberate move. To stoke the anticipation (or the terror, as it were). His slacks hang loose at his hips, and his cock is already achingly hard when he eases it out, to press in a hard grind between Kaoru's ass cheeks. It's a slow arc, head pushing from Kaoru's tailbone to perineum, then back again.
That's all the warning he gets before Ainosuke sinks in, teeth grit against a soft groan, straight down to the hilt. ]
no subject
Fine, I won't give you the satisfaction of making me scream.
[ That's going to be another challenge entirely, however, because he already wants to beg Ainosuke to hurry up. He can hear the clink of his belt and even feel it brush against his ass, another cold point of metal on heated skin. When he feels the first rub of cock he swallows down a moan and tenses from head to toe with anticipation. A moment later and he's willing himself to relax as much as possible, predicting a prod but never a full push to send him balls deep into Kaoru. The ghost of an orgasm rattles through him, muscles spasming with pleasure as he lets out a single sob. Even with the pleasure sparking through him it isn't enough, unsatisfying where his cock is half hard and yet aching for release. ]
no subject
Perhaps Ainosuke will never understand it. Perhaps it's not wholesome, healthy. Perhaps it won't last. But Ainosuke will leave so many pieces of himself in Kaoru -- on Kaoru -- that the ghost of him will linger. This love will haunt Kaoru unyielding, just as it's haunted Ainosuke all this time. He'll never be free of it; not if Ainosuke has any hand in nailing this coffin shut.
It's only turnabout, only fair. Sunk deep in Kaoru's body, Ainosuke could swear he's found Eden, at long and last. Nothing can touch them here, and it's desecrated everything Ainosuke's known to be holy. A new religion, in the word of Kaoru's body. Ainosuke's knuckles crack around the knife, grip squeezed tight around the handle, a subtle reminder to ground himself as his mind starts to wander. After all, he's playing the villain tonight. He has to follow through. ]
Awfully tight, for a little whore.
[ It's a low growl amid the first mean crash of his hips against Kaoru's ass. Mercy is a hard-won notion for Ainosuke, and Kaoru rarely knows it. He sets a heady pace from the start, pistoning hard and bottoming out deep. And after a few moments of driving Kaoru's hips to bruise against the edge of the granite countertop, Ainosuke hooks a forearm over Kaoru's shoulder, one long hand curling around the delicate column of Kaoru's throat and taking either side in a tight grip to anchor. ]
How are you feeling about your choices?
no subject
Kaoru, unlike Ainosuke, is painfully aware of the moment and hears each pop of joints in his hand as his grip on the knife shifts. He barely has the time to steady his breathing and further relax his tense body before Ainosuke begins to thrust, let alone come up with a reply to that comment that goes right to his gut. Ainosuke knows that such terms eat at him, implying he's unfaithful when he is as devote in his love as Adam was to Eden. Kaoru makes for a poor Eve when he has little to tempt Ainosuke with, though maybe this could be the beginning of a spiral down into hell, hand in hand.
The pain of the hard counter against his hips keeps Kaoru focused in the moment, biting his bottom lip hard enough to bruise and even break skin after a particularly hard thrust. He has to let go of it to suck in a breath as all air is driven from his body in Ainosuke's selfish pursuit of satisfaction. There is no angling of his hips to reach Kaoru's prostate, no slow and sensual build of tension to coax him to climax. He's being used as a tool for Ainosuke's pleasure, and he's gagging for it. It only gets worse—better—with one of his large hands closing around his throat and stealing his breath away again. ]
Choices? [ He barely gets the word out and chokes around it as he does, struggling to regain the air lost on the simple question. ]
no subject
[ There is, perhaps, too much truth in that statement. Kaoru's devotion is every bit as sweet as it is foolish. Why does Kaoru follow, no matter how much distance Ainosuke puts between them? Why must he snap back like a bowstring, crash into Ainosuke every time, and then sink his claws in deep? Maybe it will never make sense, and trying to find reason in this seems pointless. Like he's rousing dogs better left to sleep. But let it never be said that Ainosuke didn't try to sabotage this.
It's too late now, after all. They're in too hard, too deep. Kaoru knows what he's gotten into, he's literally asked for this, and Ainosuke will turn feral before he lets Kaoru go now. To that end, he'll stake his claim in no uncertain terms. Kaoru will know who he belongs to -- whose heart he's taken, and who's taken his heart -- and he'll know it beyond the shadow of a doubt until the day he dies.
Ainosuke's cock sinks deep, and his hand curls tighter around Kaoru's throat as his hips still. ]
Maybe you need a memento. Something to remind you of exactly who you're dealing with.
[ The knife shifts in Ainosuke's grip again, and Kaoru can feel the sharp prick of the tip against his shoulderblade. Ainosuke is rapt, transfixed on the clean sink of the blade through Kaoru's skin, the blood that swells up in its wake. It glides through so smoothly, just like ink on paper, six tidy lines perfectly pulling the shape of a heart through Kaoru's flesh. It bleeds, paints Kaoru in streaks of deep and lovely red, and Ainosuke's hips stutter, overwhelmed all over again by Kaoru's beauty, by his love-- ]
My God, look at you.
[ Ainosuke licks his lips, and then arches down over Kaoru's back to lap up the blood in one long drag of his tongue. With a quiet groan, he resumes his hard drive into Kaoru's body. He's so close, so high, he can practically taste it on the back of his throat with the lingering metallic burn of Kaoru's blood. And still, his tone is so sweet, so fond when he moans: ]
Pathetic.
no subject
Ainosuke stills inside of him, deep and close, and it makes Kaoru shiver bodily with the sensation of being so full. It's cruel treatment when Ainosuke knows how much Kaoru loves this, loves simply holding as much of him inside as possible and reveling in the subtle pressure of it. The matching press of Ainosuke's palm against his throat adds to the sensation of it all, of being pushed around and molded into a perfect toy for Ainosuke's pleasure and enjoyment. The words barely register in Kaoru's mind as it goes foggy from all of his guilty mental enjoyment of this along with the low supply of oxygen. Memento? Kaoru will take anything Ainosuke gifts to him with open arms.
The first touch of the knife almost doesn't register in his mind, feeling the same as a bite of teeth or scratch of nails with which he's intimately familiar. But then it continues, longer and deeper and hot despite how cold the metal had felt against his skin. It cuts through him, he knows it logically, but the pain mixes with pleasure until Kaoru can't tell if he's being cut or kissed. The sudden movement of Ainosuke's hips only adds to the confusion, pushing him impossibly deeper and rubbing against Kaoru's prostate to fill him with a wave of pleasure that overwrites the sting. He must be screaming, or maybe moaning, or some kind of sound that barely makes it past the weight of Ainosuke's hand against his throat.
There is so much sensation all at once, overwhelming and swirling into a muddled mess that his body simply decides must all be pleasure. It's dizzying and confusing and Kaoru simply gives up all logic to allow Ainsouke to take care of the thinking. He turns pliant in the arms holding him, muscles relaxing around Ainosuke's cock to allow him to sink deeper as he starts thrusting forward again. All of the fight has been cut out of him as well as the desperation for pleasure; all that's left is being good for Ainosuke so that he'll give Kaoru more of his love in whatever form he chooses. ]
no subject
In any case, the knife is impeding his ability to maneuver Kaoru around, and that simply won't do. Metal clatters against granite when Ainosuke tosses it away, pushes it out of reach across the counter, and his grip finds Kaoru's hip instead. Ainosuke angles them up, tilts them to make it that much easier to drive his cock into Kaoru's hungry body. And in many a different scenario, Ainosuke would strive to bring Kaoru over with him, but that's not the point of this. Kaoru wants to feel used and worthless, and Ainosuke's all too happy to indulge the baser side of himself in turn.
Hot, tight, velvet, his. Kaoru is his. He's literally marked as such, in tight cuts, in blood seeping down his back. All of him, all for Ainosuke. In the end, that notion alone is Ainosuke's undoing. His hips stagger, falter in their rhythm, tighter, higher, and then Ainosuke comes with a muffled cry through clenched teeth. He shakes, throbs and spills into Kaoru, fingers rigid in their grip around his throat and hip, holding him still through Ainosuke's end. Awash in pleasure, drowning in completeness, love and love and love...
And even while he's still catching his breath, Ainosuke manages to be mean about it. The way he pulls himself too quickly from Kaoru's body, to let his sex drip down the inside of those well-loved thighs. The way he shoves Kaoru away, discards him over the countertop and takes a step back. The way he parts from Kaoru completely, and smirks sideways the mess he's made of him. Ainosuke drinks it all in, every hint of red he's painted over Kaoru's skin, and the entire tableau is utterly hypnotic. ]
I'd tell you to clean yourself up if I thought you were worth the good linens.
no subject
Moaning—maybe sobbing—at the warmth that fills him and gets fucked deep inside of him, Kaoru must reach his own orgasm as pleasure crests and shakes through him. He can't really tell, not when his senses are so focused on Ainosuke and how close he is and then how he's just gone without a word. Kaoru does sob, then, sharp and loud as he slumps over the counter that provides the only support for him while his legs shake and fail to hold any of his weight. There are tears cooling on his cheeks, and he looks over his shoulder up at Ainosuke with wide, pleading eyes. ]
I can be good, I can do more. Let me do more, please.
no subject
There will be no complaints from Ainosuke. When Kaoru is like this, Ainosuke has to make certain decisions in his better interest, and ferret out that delicate place where hurt does more harm than good. It's a conversation to have later, should they elect to pursue this fantasy again; Ainosuke won't presume to know Kaoru's limits when he's past the point of capably expressing them. He won't push any more tonight, but that doesn't mean he's finished with Kaoru either.
Ainosuke's voice is warm and full through a low hum when he steps up behind Kaoru again. His hand is gentle when it pushes through Kaoru's hair, soothing away the ache from where he'd pulled too hard earlier. ]
You've been so good tonight, Kaoru. You did very well. Let me look at you for a moment. You're perfectly gorgeous when I'm dripping down your legs like this.
[ There's no insincerity in the statement. Ainosuke's gaze is too fixated for this to be anything less than adoration, but it may be falling short of the entire truth. His free hand drifts down Kaoru's back, and the tip of his middle finger pauses to turn a few slow circles around the periphery of the weeping wound he's left there. How beautifully he wears it. Blood has always looked especially enchanting on Kaoru's skin, but this is a dangerous precedent. Ainosuke would gladly carve up every spare corner of Kaoru's skin, etch in his love as sharp and deep as conceivably possible if it means seeing him like this again.
Kaoru can feel the effect of it in very short order, when Ainosuke's hands move to his thighs and push them tight together, room left only for the deliberate slide of Ainosuke's cock between them. ]
Keep your whore legs together for once, darling. Nice and tight around my cock, understood?
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Mm, good for you, Ainosuke. [ He tilts his head into his hand, all on the fight completely fucked out of him at this point. The road they've traveled together now splits in two directions where either they continue with the brutal sex despite Kaoru no longer being able to keep up the pretense of not consenting, or they begin the aftercare and don't push the luck on how long it will take Kaoru to drop this time. He's still riding the high of subspace for now, the faint touch to the cuts on his back feeling like sweet caresses rather than painful probing.
Gasping a little as his legs are pushed together, he quickly gets the idea and hooks his ankles around each other to add tension and tighten the muscles around Ainosuke's dick. Even if he aches to be fucked again, he's reached the point where he's a good and obedient toy. ]
Yes, sir.
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[ Kaoru's thighs are softer than they have any right to be. Physically speaking, these legs are one of Kaoru's finest attributes (though certainly not the finest; Ainosuke would topple empires for that stunning face). Long, shapely, smooth, pale. Fucking between them is very nearly as sweet as burying his cock in that greedy hole, and at the moment, Ainosuke can't decide which he likes better. Perhaps it's weighted unfairly. He's still achingly sensitive, overstimulated, shaking against a pleasure like wildfire stinging across every nerve.
And he won't be the only one enjoying this agony. Ainosuke guides Kaoru's hips away from the counter and angles him up enough to slip one hand beneath. Stroking Kaoru's cock may be equal parts kindness and torture at this juncture; his tight grip, the thumb pressing over and over Kaoru's slick head, all to coax him back to nigh-unbearable arousal under Ainosuke's touch. ]
Mm, do you know, I think I'll defile you like this at my next fundraising event. [ Ainosuke practically purrs, shivering through each slide of his cock between Kaoru's thighs, humming through each stroke. ] Parade you around like my pretty toy all night. Bend you over a counter in the restroom, hike up your kimono, and fuck these beautiful thighs. Make you wear my cum on your legs for the rest of the evening while we're meeting with lobbyists. How would you like that, my sweet blossom?