“I’m not sure I’m ready--” He cleared his throat. “Not sure I’m up for more than that.”
“Can I try? I won’t get too adventurous. Not without lube. But I want to try.” I slid off his lap, going carefully to my knees in the space between his legs and his desk. “Can I, uh...meet you?”
He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. It won’t do much. I don’t have much sensation there.”
“But it doesn’t hurt?” He shook his head, and I pulled off my glove, splaying my fingers with their waxy scars over his suit pants. “Help me--” and he lifted his hips so that I could get his pants down, his briefs.
My last few months had been more adventurous than the rest of my life combined. I’d had lovers who taught me to pay attention to all of them-- even the parts that detached. I ran my lips over the plastic, firm with a passingly flesh-like give, warm and sweat-musky. “Do you want me to blow it?”
His eyes widened; he hadn’t thought of that.
“Not tonight. No. Wouldn’t have thought you were into that.” His laugh was nervous-- a new uncertainty he’d never shown me before.
I kissed his thigh. “Can I put my mouth on you?”
“Only if it gets you off. Won’t do much for me.”
I loosened the hip harness up-- unbuckled the soft leather straps and flipped the rubber penis aside. ...It wasn’t much easier to look at than the last time, but now there was something a lot more personal about it. It wasn’t just mangled skin-- it was John. They’d hurt John, and he’d been carrying around that hurt for so long, all by himself.
I kissed the orchiectomy scar first, nuzzling his penis out of the way-- flattened my tongue against the skin and gave a long lick, then blew on it as if I was cooling a burn. He watched cautiously. “Your mouth is warm, and that was cold. That’s all that I can feel.”
“That’s enough for me,” I told him, and wrapped my mouth around his flaccid cock. The texture was strange-- not wrong, John wasn’t going to be wrong to me, but strange-- I could taste where there had been stitches, the rise and fall of the skin, the too-smooth patches where his body had done its best to heal.
I looked up. He’d shut his eyes.
A soft suck, more for my benefit than his, and I let him out of my mouth, cradling him in one hand. “John?”
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, voice tight. “I hadn’t realized. It wasn’t. Erotic to see you do that.”
I froze-- I hadn’t mean to make out like I had some kind of fetish, like I was trying to get off on his scars. I’d just wanted him to know that I was happy to take everything he had, or didn’t have. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
He sliced a hand through the air. “No. No, it wasn’t unpleasant. The opposite. But not sexual. I’m sorry. I think I’ve killed the mood.”
“It’s okay. “ I rubbed his thighs. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m good to try again later.”
He fidgeted sharply in his chair, hands flying down to do up his harness again, snugging the prosthetic back in place. He held his breath until he was done-- then it came out in a long sigh. I rested my head on his thigh, briefly, gave a gentle kiss to the inside of his knee, and looked back up, trying to find that line between giving him privacy and being there for him.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. And really, both of us had been doing more apologizing tonight than we’d done the whole decade-plus we’d known each other. Well, that came up when you dealt with sensitive subjects. Ha ha, tasteless pun. Here all week.
“It’s fine. Jeeze, why are you apologizing to me? I got off tonight. I’m doing great. ”
His lips pulled up into a smirk, even if his eyes weren’t happy. “You were big. I knew you would be.”
“Wow, how much thought have you put into that?” I hadn’t realized that ‘attracted and willing’ went beyond idle fantasies and into... John Marcone actually considering my package. I didn’t know if I should feel flattered or embarrassed.
A snort. “Some. I’ll admit. ...Did you ever consider mine, as you worked your way up to seducing me tonight?”
I kept rubbing his leg. “Honestly... I imagined your balls, mostly. Big hefty ones, the kind it takes to do what you do.”
“Well, there they are. Big and hefty... and plastic, but two out of three isn’t bad, they say.”
“I love your balls, John. Love your dick, too. Both of them.”
“...Have you taken some kind of sexual sensitivity class?”
“....nnno. I’ve fucked things that actually have two. Or prongs.” I held up two fingers. Peace, man. “Or keep theirs in storage and wear it when it’s safe.”
His shocked bark of laughter was followed by a huff and a hiproll. “You-- that shouldn’t excite me. It shouldn’t do a damn thing for me-- you look ridiculous down there, you can’t fellate a strap on. It’s a useless exercise.” He chased the logic in circles and was left staring at nothing and looking aroused again, confused, irritated.
“...I’m pretty sure I can fellate a lot of things, John. Only if you want me to, though. Only if you want to watch me suck your dick.” I said innocently.
“Would you please, Mister Dresden,” he said, curt and exasperated.
So I took his plastic cock in my mouth and sucked, laved my tongue over the realistic veins-- letting the tip of it flick outside of my lips so that he could see. A long pull off of it, lips wrapped around it and dragging down its length, and then I started to lick it deliberately.
“Oh,” John said, and then “OH.” when I cupped a hand under his groin and started massaging the skin between his strap-on and his asshole. Right there; like he’d said, that still had feeling.
I knew-- because of the safe sex pamphlets Butters had buried me under when I started being much more sexually active-- that guys could get off from this alone. But I knew I didn’t stand much of a chance of getting it just right my first time. Unless I cheated.
I pulled off his dick long enough to take a deep breath and center myself, and concentrated on feeling him. All of him. The warmth of his skin under my hands-- the individual hairs and the chords of muscle in his thighs. The shape of his legs against my chest, the pressure against me where his pants were bunched around his knees. The dampness of sweat where he was sitting on my hand. His smell; the texture of his clothing, the beat of his heart.
As my senses expanded out around him, I could feel his arousal, the knot of energy gathering in one of his chakra points, pulsing with his heartbeat. I rubbed the heel of my hand against him, following my magic to the energy that bloomed in his pelvis-- incandescent, twining around my probing aura lazily.
"What are you doing?" he gasped, and I saw him regain control of himself with a hitch. "Out of. Curiosity."
“Magic.” I wiggled my fingers against him. “Abracadabra.”
“It’s-- oh, Harry. Oh shit, Harry.”
My magic cradled around his energy was an extension of my hand cradled under his perineum, containing and stoking the energy inside, holding his arousal so that it couldn’t drain away before he was ready. I followed the tracks of excitement-- kissed his thighs and found the places that lit up like little lights under my mouth, stroked the backs of his knees and the bottoms of his thighs, hitting all the little buttons I could reach.
He started to pant, and I focused on my massaging hand, trying to nudge his prostate without hammering it, sucking him again, bumping his arousal teasingly with my own energy, stroking, licking it with little tongues of my own satisfaction.
His arousal suddenly swelled into a mass of energy that tangled all through his pelvis, and then pulsed sharply and imploded-- his hips bucked and he exhaled, hard, as if he’d been punched, and almost immediately flinched back. I pulled away quickly, my hands and my energy.
John slumped in his chair and I stared at the bizarre sight of him unhinged-- drooling, even, just the slightest shine of moisture at the corner of his slack mouth. He raised a shaking hand to his head and pushed back his hair with clawed fingers, then rubbed down his face, scrubbing hard.
“Huh.” He rolled his desk chair back, carefully closed his legs. “All right.”
“I owed you one.” I slanted a smile, let my teeth show in a flash.
“I didn’t do that for you. I couldn’t have done anything like that for you,” he said, his voice slow and almost slurring.
“Sure you did. It’s been a while. You’ve just forgotten how good it is.” I stood up stiffly, stretching out my back, not bothering to do anything about the dopey smile I could feel stretching out my face. I tucked my dick back inside my jeans. “Hey, you want a beer? ...Stop staring at me like that, John, do you want to swell my head?”
“You. You bastard wizard. I hate all of you.” The laughter boiled out of him like the orgasm had, hard and surprising, and he sprawled back in his chair, stomach spasming.
“I hate you too, you criminal scumbag.” I grinned, and met him when he staggered out of his chair and kissed me hard enough to split my lip.
“Come on, you oversexed teenager.” He pulled away, a swagger in his step that really raised questions as to who was the teenager here. “I’m buying, and you’re going to thank me for it.”
Ohmygod this is amazing. The way they sniped at each other to cover some serious fucking business negotiations, John's reactions in the end, Harry analogizing to the way he alienated his injured hand and had to reintegrate it, ohmygod.
oh my god this is amazing. harry's an abelist dick a bit, sure but the thing is, he's realised he is, and he's realised he's been wrong. tie that up with how harry is actually seeing john and not just his injuries and how it's just part and parcel of john now? i'm in love with this fill, anon you are wonderful *_*
Oh, wow. I Love the Way, Harry is kind of a dick-- not just ablist, but sexist, my god he can't tell the difference between metaphorical brass balls and actual equipment -- but it ends up working. I love the way they both have issues. I love Harry's awareness of his hand. I love that he does things that are for himself, not Marcone, but then uses his magic for a workaround. I love that it really doesn't take either of them very long to get to the point of "sex doesn't need to be tab A and slot B".
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Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
(Anonymous) 2011-02-13 08:30 am (UTC)(link)“I’m not sure I’m ready--” He cleared his throat. “Not sure I’m up for more than that.”
“Can I try? I won’t get too adventurous. Not without lube. But I want to try.” I slid off his lap, going carefully to my knees in the space between his legs and his desk. “Can I, uh...meet you?”
He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. It won’t do much. I don’t have much sensation there.”
“But it doesn’t hurt?” He shook his head, and I pulled off my glove, splaying my fingers with their waxy scars over his suit pants. “Help me--” and he lifted his hips so that I could get his pants down, his briefs.
My last few months had been more adventurous than the rest of my life combined. I’d had lovers who taught me to pay attention to all of them-- even the parts that detached. I ran my lips over the plastic, firm with a passingly flesh-like give, warm and sweat-musky. “Do you want me to blow it?”
His eyes widened; he hadn’t thought of that.
“Not tonight. No. Wouldn’t have thought you were into that.” His laugh was nervous-- a new uncertainty he’d never shown me before.
I kissed his thigh. “Can I put my mouth on you?”
“Only if it gets you off. Won’t do much for me.”
I loosened the hip harness up-- unbuckled the soft leather straps and flipped the rubber penis aside. ...It wasn’t much easier to look at than the last time, but now there was something a lot more personal about it. It wasn’t just mangled skin-- it was John. They’d hurt John, and he’d been carrying around that hurt for so long, all by himself.
I kissed the orchiectomy scar first, nuzzling his penis out of the way-- flattened my tongue against the skin and gave a long lick, then blew on it as if I was cooling a burn. He watched cautiously. “Your mouth is warm, and that was cold. That’s all that I can feel.”
“That’s enough for me,” I told him, and wrapped my mouth around his flaccid cock. The texture was strange-- not wrong, John wasn’t going to be wrong to me, but strange-- I could taste where there had been stitches, the rise and fall of the skin, the too-smooth patches where his body had done its best to heal.
I looked up. He’d shut his eyes.
A soft suck, more for my benefit than his, and I let him out of my mouth, cradling him in one hand. “John?”
“I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, voice tight. “I hadn’t realized. It wasn’t. Erotic to see you do that.”
I froze-- I hadn’t mean to make out like I had some kind of fetish, like I was trying to get off on his scars. I’d just wanted him to know that I was happy to take everything he had, or didn’t have. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”
He sliced a hand through the air. “No. No, it wasn’t unpleasant. The opposite. But not sexual. I’m sorry. I think I’ve killed the mood.”
“It’s okay. “ I rubbed his thighs. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m good to try again later.”
He fidgeted sharply in his chair, hands flying down to do up his harness again, snugging the prosthetic back in place. He held his breath until he was done-- then it came out in a long sigh. I rested my head on his thigh, briefly, gave a gentle kiss to the inside of his knee, and looked back up, trying to find that line between giving him privacy and being there for him.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. And really, both of us had been doing more apologizing tonight than we’d done the whole decade-plus we’d known each other. Well, that came up when you dealt with sensitive subjects. Ha ha, tasteless pun. Here all week.
“It’s fine. Jeeze, why are you apologizing to me? I got off tonight. I’m doing great. ”
His lips pulled up into a smirk, even if his eyes weren’t happy. “You were big. I knew you would be.”
“Wow, how much thought have you put into that?” I hadn’t realized that ‘attracted and willing’ went beyond idle fantasies and into... John Marcone actually considering my package. I didn’t know if I should feel flattered or embarrassed.
A snort. “Some. I’ll admit. ...Did you ever consider mine, as you worked your way up to seducing me tonight?”
I kept rubbing his leg. “Honestly... I imagined your balls, mostly. Big hefty ones, the kind it takes to do what you do.”
“Well, there they are. Big and hefty... and plastic, but two out of three isn’t bad, they say.”
“I love your balls, John. Love your dick, too. Both of them.”
“...Have you taken some kind of sexual sensitivity class?”
“....nnno. I’ve fucked things that actually have two. Or prongs.” I held up two fingers. Peace, man. “Or keep theirs in storage and wear it when it’s safe.”
His shocked bark of laughter was followed by a huff and a hiproll. “You-- that shouldn’t excite me. It shouldn’t do a damn thing for me-- you look ridiculous down there, you can’t fellate a strap on. It’s a useless exercise.” He chased the logic in circles and was left staring at nothing and looking aroused again, confused, irritated.
“...I’m pretty sure I can fellate a lot of things, John. Only if you want me to, though. Only if you want to watch me suck your dick.” I said innocently.
“Would you please, Mister Dresden,” he said, curt and exasperated.
So I took his plastic cock in my mouth and sucked, laved my tongue over the realistic veins-- letting the tip of it flick outside of my lips so that he could see. A long pull off of it, lips wrapped around it and dragging down its length, and then I started to lick it deliberately.
“Oh,” John said, and then “OH.” when I cupped a hand under his groin and started massaging the skin between his strap-on and his asshole. Right there; like he’d said, that still had feeling.
I knew-- because of the safe sex pamphlets Butters had buried me under when I started being much more sexually active-- that guys could get off from this alone. But I knew I didn’t stand much of a chance of getting it just right my first time. Unless I cheated.
I pulled off his dick long enough to take a deep breath and center myself, and concentrated on feeling him. All of him. The warmth of his skin under my hands-- the individual hairs and the chords of muscle in his thighs. The shape of his legs against my chest, the pressure against me where his pants were bunched around his knees. The dampness of sweat where he was sitting on my hand. His smell; the texture of his clothing, the beat of his heart.
As my senses expanded out around him, I could feel his arousal, the knot of energy gathering in one of his chakra points, pulsing with his heartbeat. I rubbed the heel of my hand against him, following my magic to the energy that bloomed in his pelvis-- incandescent, twining around my probing aura lazily.
"What are you doing?" he gasped, and I saw him regain control of himself with a hitch. "Out of. Curiosity."
“Magic.” I wiggled my fingers against him. “Abracadabra.”
“It’s-- oh, Harry. Oh shit, Harry.”
My magic cradled around his energy was an extension of my hand cradled under his perineum, containing and stoking the energy inside, holding his arousal so that it couldn’t drain away before he was ready. I followed the tracks of excitement-- kissed his thighs and found the places that lit up like little lights under my mouth, stroked the backs of his knees and the bottoms of his thighs, hitting all the little buttons I could reach.
He started to pant, and I focused on my massaging hand, trying to nudge his prostate without hammering it, sucking him again, bumping his arousal teasingly with my own energy, stroking, licking it with little tongues of my own satisfaction.
His arousal suddenly swelled into a mass of energy that tangled all through his pelvis, and then pulsed sharply and imploded-- his hips bucked and he exhaled, hard, as if he’d been punched, and almost immediately flinched back. I pulled away quickly, my hands and my energy.
John slumped in his chair and I stared at the bizarre sight of him unhinged-- drooling, even, just the slightest shine of moisture at the corner of his slack mouth. He raised a shaking hand to his head and pushed back his hair with clawed fingers, then rubbed down his face, scrubbing hard.
“Huh.” He rolled his desk chair back, carefully closed his legs. “All right.”
“I owed you one.” I slanted a smile, let my teeth show in a flash.
“I didn’t do that for you. I couldn’t have done anything like that for you,” he said, his voice slow and almost slurring.
“Sure you did. It’s been a while. You’ve just forgotten how good it is.” I stood up stiffly, stretching out my back, not bothering to do anything about the dopey smile I could feel stretching out my face. I tucked my dick back inside my jeans. “Hey, you want a beer? ...Stop staring at me like that, John, do you want to swell my head?”
“You. You bastard wizard. I hate all of you.” The laughter boiled out of him like the orgasm had, hard and surprising, and he sprawled back in his chair, stomach spasming.
“I hate you too, you criminal scumbag.” I grinned, and met him when he staggered out of his chair and kissed me hard enough to split my lip.
“Come on, you oversexed teenager.” He pulled away, a swagger in his step that really raised questions as to who was the teenager here. “I’m buying, and you’re going to thank me for it.”
“Like hell.”
We laughed, and left his office behind us.
Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
This was so snuggly and sweet!
Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
(Anonymous) 2011-02-13 12:15 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
(Anonymous) 2011-02-13 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
(Anonymous) 2011-02-13 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2
(Anonymous) 2011-02-13 07:20 pm (UTC)(link)Alternate Link
Re: Quasi-fill - All Sewn Up 2/2