Tuesday, 7 January 2014

Short Story: Doors Should Creak

Rating: 18
Universe: Unnamed Steampunk
Word Count: 961
Summary: Kirill and Niko enjoy an intimate session—complete with unexpected visitors

“How’s that?”  Niko’s breath burned against Kirill’s shoulder.
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   “How’s that?”  Niko’s breath burned against Kirill’s shoulder.

   “Mmmnnn...” was all he could manage in return, his face buried against Niko’s neck.  Why did he expect an answer?  Two fingers were up to the second knuckle in his arse and there was no way he could articulate just how good that felt.

   “And this?”  Niko asked, gesturing forwards, and Kirill almost melted against him, nodding his helpless approval as he sunk his fingers into Niko’s back and grazed his knuckles over the wooden headboard.   “Is that enough, or...?”

   “It’s enough,” he gasped, wrapping his arms around Niko’s neck.  “Please—”

   “You’re sure?”  Niko pressed a soft kiss to Kirill’s parted lips.

   “Yes—  Please—!”  He tried to spread his legs further, bunching the soft sheets beneath his knees.  Niko’s cock rubbed against his backside; his own felt woefully unattended.  He had to take what pleasure he could from the tantalising brushes against the other man’s abdomen.  “Please, now—!”

   The withdrawal of Niko’s slick fingers left him with an aching need he’d never thought he’d experience.  “Well,” Niko murmured, walking them up each bump of Kirill’s spine until he whined helplessly, “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”  The fingers trailed with torturous slowness back down, raising the hairs on the nape of his neck.  The head of his cock slid between his buttocks; with more care than he ever expected, it slid into him.

   Kirill groaned, tightening his hold around Niko’s neck.  “Th—  Thank you...”

   “You’re welcome.”  Niko smiled and kissed him again, allowing his hands to settle on Kirill’s hips and hold him in place until he was used to the thickness filling him.

   As much as he appreciated the care, it did nothing for his impatience.  Opening his mouth, he let Niko’s tongue slip in, and clumsily tried to replicate the movements of a kiss that left his lips burning.

   Niko’s right hand moved up to graze the raised pink scar below his rib cage; a shudder rippled across his shoulders and his heart skipped a beat.  Did Niko know he’d considered having it coloured to match his face?  Probably not: he’d be furious, or maybe disappointed, but he certainly wouldn’t limit himself to frowning slightly.  One finger followed the line of it from back to front and just when he thought he’d caught his breath again, the hand dropped to wrap around his erection instead.

   He bit down on his lip to suppress a whimper, thrusting up into the fist, then gave up all pretence at decorum with a moan as Niko’s cock moved inside him.

   The hand tightened; he felt Niko’s hitching gasp.  “God,” he breathed, sliding his grip the length of Kirill’s shaft and back down, “you’re so—  I love you so much—”

   With some effort Kirill released Niko’s neck.  If he carried on clinging there was no way he could move, and if he wanted more of that incredible, gut-twisting feeling he would have to move himself.  Niko wouldn’t help, at least not to start with.  He liked watching Kirill’s efforts too much.

   He still wasn’t used to this, particularly not while kneeling astride Niko’s hips; awkward though it was it felt good enough to jolt gasps from him, helped along by Niko’s expertly teasing hands.  Niko, who grinned at the sight of Kirill’s struggle to ride him and whose sole contribution to help beyond jerking him off was to press his free hand to his chest, pushing him backwards.  “It’ll feel better, I promise.”

   Kirill tried to push back, grabbing Niko’s waist in panic.  “I can’t!  I—  I’ll fall over—”

   Niko prised one hand free and twined their fingers together.  “You won’t, I promise.”

   Dubious, he did as asked and, almost like a reward—very much like a reward—Niko bucked up beneath him.  “Ah!”

   “Good?”  He squeezed his hand.

   Kirill nodded weakly, his breath catching.  He could hardly argue with the burst of heart-stopping heat, particularly not when Niko did it again, his other hand still firm on his flushed erection.  It’d only take a couple more of those—  If Niko kept on—  Oh, oh

   He came in a heady rush, stickily spattering over Niko’s taut stomach; it wasn’t a surprise he didn’t hear the door.  Not until the pointed cough and unfamiliar voice.  “We’ll come back later.”

   Beneath him, Niko jumped violently.  “What the hell—?  Mum?!”

   ...Mum?  Still impaled by Niko, still with hands clasped together, Kirill twisted to look over his shoulder.  At the man and woman standing in the doorway.  At her expression of shock; his mild amusement.  His heart stopped.  “Ah—  I—  I’m—!”

   The hand squeezed; he fell silent, looking back to the clearly irritated Niko.  “Yes.  Please come back later.  I’m busy.”  Behind him, the door slammed shut again.  Niko raised one finger at the woodwork.

   “I’m sorry,” Kirill breathed, pushing himself upwards.  “I’ve embarrassed you—”

   “You’ve done no such thing,” Niko said, resting his other hand on Kirill’s hip again.  “Do you want to stop?”

   “Your parents—”

   “Can wait.  Do you want to stop?”

   Niko still hadn’t come.  What he wanted was for him to, to make him feel good the way Niko did for him.  He hesitated, then shook his head.  “No, I don’t.”

   The hand pushed him down again.  Niko slammed into him hard and fast.  By rights it should hurt, not fill his belly with another flare of pleasure that, if Niko’s groan was anything to go by, was fully reciprocated.  “I’m glad,” Niko mumbled, wrapping both arms around Kirill’s back and pulling him close.  “I wanted to see if I could make you come again.”

   “I think,” Kirill gasped against Niko’s neck as his lover began to move beneath him in earnest,  “that might be quite likely...”

   Niko’s lips pressed softly against his scarred cheek.  “Good.” 


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