His back was unexpectedly beautiful. He was nothing but bones from most angles, but John could trace lean muscle from his shoulders all the way down to his hips. Harry’s hodgepodge discipline of magic and running and Aikido and staffwork and just bashing at things until they stopped moving rarely showed, at least not until it was happening to you.
It was clear right then, though. No gangly, underfed wizard in his bed, but a man who fought like an alley cat and usually won, and who had a reasonable chance of tossing John into a wall with or without magic. Oversized, disproportionate, improbable Harry Dresden.
John kissed the base of his spine, the flat plane right over his tailbone. He loved that spot on a man, always had. And you could only ever see it in this position.
Then he licked down Harry’s crack, rubbing the soft underside of his tongue all the way to his balls.
Harry yelped and levitated like he hadn’t known what was coming. John laid a forearm across the small of his back, pressing him down, steadying him.
He spread Harry open with the other hand and nuzzled into the spot just behind his balls, licking slowly. The skin was soft and tender there, untouched by sun or injury. John got it wet, breathing him in and lipping distractedly at the curve of his testicles.
Harry was saying, “oh, oh, oh,” quietly to himself. He was holding perfectly still, but a desperate tension trembled beneath his skin. John sucked gently at his balls, curious. He recalled not liking that, personally – it made his guts twist up uncomfortably, almost to the point of cramping. But Harry keened out a long, trembly breath at the touch of John’s mouth, and he didn’t sound like he wanted to curl away or kick out in defense.
John opened his mouth wide over Harry’s balls, carefully drawing them in. He licked at them, testing the give beneath the flat of his tongue. Then, on a hunch, he eased closer, relaxing the protective curl of his lips and setting his teeth into Harry’s skin. So gently, still, barely any pressure. Harry went abruptly silent; John didn’t think he was breathing. He was locked in place, not even a quiver escaping.
John held him there between his teeth for a long few ticks, breathing carefully. Then he eased his jaw, let go.
“Oh God,” Harry said explosively. A shiver seized him, traveling down his back and rocking him on his knees.
“Mmm,” John said. He spread Harry open and breathed across him where he was wet. Harry shuddered again – John could practically taste the way his nerves were screaming. Goosebumps popped up all down the insides of Harry’s legs.
John sat up. He was disappointed, a bit, to be denied this. An odd, unexpected desire, something he’d never done before. That had felt important, for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“No, I—“ Harry said, then quickly. “Just do it, don’t fuck around.”
John blinked. Then he bent fast enough to give himself whiplash, spread Harry’s cheeks, and pressed in. He found Harry’s hole with his tongue, tiny and clenched. He licked it fast, not teasing. Harry bucked; John leaned some weight onto an arm over his back and kept at him.
He circled tightly, then ran the flat of his tongue back and forth, back and forth. He could feel Harry opening up for him, slow, reluctant.
John came up for a quick breath, and when he went back down he flexed the muscle of his tongue and pushed it past the clench of resistance.
Harry tore away from him. John hunched there, panting; Harry was shaking in front of him, slung awkwardly forward on his knees, poised to take off.
There was a brief space of rushing breath. Then Harry slowly moved, easing into John’s hands again, back onto his mouth.
I find John's appreciation of Harry's muscles oddly satisfying. "A man who fought like an alley cat and usually won," mmm. Maybe it's that strength-to-strength thing; both of them are conscious of being in bed with someone who could hurt them and chooses not to. On that note, HOLY SHIT JOHN'S TEETH ON HARRY'S BALLS. O_O
I love the way you always play with trust and vulnerability. You're so good at it.
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timeasmymeasure
Fill (3/...motherfuck...4?)
Date: 2011-03-10 03:38 am (UTC)It was clear right then, though. No gangly, underfed wizard in his bed, but a man who fought like an alley cat and usually won, and who had a reasonable chance of tossing John into a wall with or without magic. Oversized, disproportionate, improbable Harry Dresden.
John kissed the base of his spine, the flat plane right over his tailbone. He loved that spot on a man, always had. And you could only ever see it in this position.
Then he licked down Harry’s crack, rubbing the soft underside of his tongue all the way to his balls.
Harry yelped and levitated like he hadn’t known what was coming. John laid a forearm across the small of his back, pressing him down, steadying him.
He spread Harry open with the other hand and nuzzled into the spot just behind his balls, licking slowly. The skin was soft and tender there, untouched by sun or injury. John got it wet, breathing him in and lipping distractedly at the curve of his testicles.
Harry was saying, “oh, oh, oh,” quietly to himself. He was holding perfectly still, but a desperate tension trembled beneath his skin. John sucked gently at his balls, curious. He recalled not liking that, personally – it made his guts twist up uncomfortably, almost to the point of cramping. But Harry keened out a long, trembly breath at the touch of John’s mouth, and he didn’t sound like he wanted to curl away or kick out in defense.
John opened his mouth wide over Harry’s balls, carefully drawing them in. He licked at them, testing the give beneath the flat of his tongue. Then, on a hunch, he eased closer, relaxing the protective curl of his lips and setting his teeth into Harry’s skin. So gently, still, barely any pressure. Harry went abruptly silent; John didn’t think he was breathing. He was locked in place, not even a quiver escaping.
John held him there between his teeth for a long few ticks, breathing carefully. Then he eased his jaw, let go.
“Oh God,” Harry said explosively. A shiver seized him, traveling down his back and rocking him on his knees.
“Mmm,” John said. He spread Harry open and breathed across him where he was wet. Harry shuddered again – John could practically taste the way his nerves were screaming. Goosebumps popped up all down the insides of Harry’s legs.
John bent to do it again, delighted.
“Wait, don’t,” Harry said jaggedly.
John paused. “No?”
Harry’s breath rattled. “I don’t think I—I don’t want—“
John sat up. He was disappointed, a bit, to be denied this. An odd, unexpected desire, something he’d never done before. That had felt important, for reasons he couldn’t explain.
“No, I—“ Harry said, then quickly. “Just do it, don’t fuck around.”
John blinked. Then he bent fast enough to give himself whiplash, spread Harry’s cheeks, and pressed in. He found Harry’s hole with his tongue, tiny and clenched. He licked it fast, not teasing. Harry bucked; John leaned some weight onto an arm over his back and kept at him.
He circled tightly, then ran the flat of his tongue back and forth, back and forth. He could feel Harry opening up for him, slow, reluctant.
John came up for a quick breath, and when he went back down he flexed the muscle of his tongue and pushed it past the clench of resistance.
Harry tore away from him. John hunched there, panting; Harry was shaking in front of him, slung awkwardly forward on his knees, poised to take off.
There was a brief space of rushing breath. Then Harry slowly moved, easing into John’s hands again, back onto his mouth.
Re: Fill (3/...motherfuck...4?)
Date: 2011-03-10 03:54 am (UTC)Then Harry slowly moved, easing into John’s hands again, back onto his mouth.
X_X
Re: Fill (3/...motherfuck...4?)
Date: 2011-03-10 04:19 am (UTC)Re: Fill (3/...motherfuck...4?)
Date: 2011-03-10 06:59 am (UTC)I love the way you always play with trust and vulnerability. You're so good at it.
Re: Fill (3/...motherfuck...4?)
Date: 2011-03-12 05:59 pm (UTC)