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wordsontongue2011-07-31 02:14 pm
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Never Enough for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
savageseraph
Title: Never Enough
Author: *kalypso /koulagirl666
Characters: Lucifer x Sean
Rating: R18+
Warnings: potential for dubcon if you tilt your head, bondage, slight D/s, bloodplay, breathplay, abrasion play, death
Beta:j_ryder448 (and thank you to my cheerleader too).
Request: Genres - Kink, AU, darkfic, BDSM, smut, angst. Honestly, if it's not fluffy or sweet, I'll probably like it. Passion (and not just sexual passion) is key; Ratings - R, NC17, XXX
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
It's not enough. Sean can still move even though the ropes are tight on his wrists and thighs and across his chest. He shifts; the table is cold on his back no matter how he moves, not enough to stick but he can't get warm. The ropes slide easily and don't burn or catch; he only feels restrained when he tries to sit up and the pressure on his throat implies he can't. He's breathless when he lies back down and the taste of ash chokes him when he opens his mouth. It's a perfect complement to the shadows that relieve him of the terror of pure darkness; he stretches, seeking those near-elusive flickers of light but failing to reach them.
He doesn't know what to wish for; he senses there's nobody to hear him if he begged, but he's always been impatient, and he wants more than the air on his skin and restraints that barely hold. There's no words for it, only that it's some dark thing he keeps hidden through working to exhaustion and forcing smiles from some reserve he's afraid is nearly empty.
It's cold, suddenly, and he shifts again; he arches his back and lets this new gust of air brush over his stomach like the hand of a ghost, or an angel. He almost shivers; it's more like a vibration, where it touches him, and it doesn't quite go away even when the absence of cold is noticeable. It's enough to make his mouth dry, as always when he's been waiting and he's getting edgy.
But as soon as he starts to take a breath deep enough to be calming there's a tongue on his lips and a hand in his hair; he tenses first, out of habit, and it takes the sharp sting of nails on his hip to remind him that he can do nothing but give in. It's perfect, for that moment where he relaxes and all he knows is the brush of linen and the temptation to lean into the kiss, almost a natural and involuntary movement.
The idea that something is missing comes to him unbidden, with a force unlike anything he's experienced coming from within. Please, he thinks over and over, and he would say it if he knew what he would be asking for, more than this casual exploration that he doesn't fight against, less than the total abandon he glimpsed and would gladly never leave.
"Please, what?" It's said into the hollow just where his shoulder starts to angle upwards and there's so much to feel that he doesn't know what's worse. "Want me to keep touching you?" The sudden grip on his chest makes him gasp and try to recoil. "Tighten these ropes, give you something to strain against when you finally let yourself react to my hands?" The voice seems to speak to that thing inside that's changing shape and spreading through his veins, as if drawing it out of hiding and giving it a new kind of power.
"What do you want, Sean? What can I give you?"
The light catches on blond hair and a flash of silver, and he hears how can I make you stay? in the silence that is broken only by the sound of uneven breathing.
"Whatever you'll give me, just please..." He hates how his voice changes just enough to betray him; it breaks and then rises just enough to expose him and make him feel vulnerable, like his lack of control is revealed.
He can no longer move so freely; there is pressure and tension but no pain, and nothing to distract him. This time it's the breathlessness of anticipation that's made the blood rush to his head and make him dizzy; he can see the outline of someone moving around him, and then he begins to slide. There's something like a thin line of ice that moves over each of his ribs until cold fire starts to burn there, where the air meets liquid that barely moves; then warmth, finally, as he realises that it's his blood being licked away. It stings and only a faint heat remains beneath, until he twists away from pain that sparks over his hip like lightning and the rope moves enough to reopen the cuts, or all that he can count in between each touch.
When there's no longer any time to breathe or to hide, he rests; he feels that moment, when he sighs and leans into the soft and harsh touches that never let him go, that he can't escape from if there was anywhere else he'd rather be. It's easier, then, like his body is fluid and limber and everything is as perfect as it could be.
He doesn't expect what happens next, how gentle it is or that he reacts so strongly. He whines when it stops, and tries to follow it but it's like he has no energy left for movements that require intent; the fingertips that trace unknown sigils on his skin guide how he twists and shivers, though they have no force behind them. The ropes seem to become tighter as he moves and he can't be sure that he hears the words whispered into his ear for all they sounded to have come from a distance. But he needs this, like he needs air and he feels like he'll never be able to get enough. He's so close; it feels like an almost, if there was just that bit more, or he knew what to ask for, anything...
He opens to the kiss and this time he clings to it; he tastes sulfur, but only briefly. His own blood tastes like salt and feels warm on his tongue; his lip is bleeding and he's not sure how that happened, only that the kiss is over. There's a sharp, narrow touch over his chest and then his stomach and his side, until it's like his entire body is raw and exposed, and then a hand on his shaft and the other sliding beneath, inside.
"Come for me," he hears through some unnatural haze that still descends and holds him down as firmly as any restraint. There's only a moment of stillness before he does, and the world starts to fade into a uniform-grey black and the last of the light sparks as if in time with the wave that threatens to overwhelm him with its unfamiliar intensity.
"I know you," he says, instead of the thank you he meant; there's other things to say, like why me and may I.
"I wanted you, is that not enough?"
He wants to answer no but oblivion hits; he spirals until everything is still and even sound means nothing.
Do you want to go back? He doesn't know if he's asking himself or if he's being tested; if his dreams are no longer havens from the things he must do and can't leave behind.
What if I asked you to stay?
I'll come back.
Yes. I think you will.
He wakes up; there is light, dull and blinding, and no sign of Lucifer but the marks he left behind. The walls are green and dirty and there are people in pale coats watching him from the other side of the curtain. Lucifer's marks are still ignited under his skin; their burn is muted and he feels no pain, only an empty sort of ache where agony should have remained.
Author: *kalypso /
koulagirl666Characters: Lucifer x Sean
Rating: R18+
Warnings: potential for dubcon if you tilt your head, bondage, slight D/s, bloodplay, breathplay, abrasion play, death
Beta:
j_ryder448 (and thank you to my cheerleader too).Request: Genres - Kink, AU, darkfic, BDSM, smut, angst. Honestly, if it's not fluffy or sweet, I'll probably like it. Passion (and not just sexual passion) is key; Ratings - R, NC17, XXX
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It's make believe and completely untrue.
It's not enough. Sean can still move even though the ropes are tight on his wrists and thighs and across his chest. He shifts; the table is cold on his back no matter how he moves, not enough to stick but he can't get warm. The ropes slide easily and don't burn or catch; he only feels restrained when he tries to sit up and the pressure on his throat implies he can't. He's breathless when he lies back down and the taste of ash chokes him when he opens his mouth. It's a perfect complement to the shadows that relieve him of the terror of pure darkness; he stretches, seeking those near-elusive flickers of light but failing to reach them.
He doesn't know what to wish for; he senses there's nobody to hear him if he begged, but he's always been impatient, and he wants more than the air on his skin and restraints that barely hold. There's no words for it, only that it's some dark thing he keeps hidden through working to exhaustion and forcing smiles from some reserve he's afraid is nearly empty.
It's cold, suddenly, and he shifts again; he arches his back and lets this new gust of air brush over his stomach like the hand of a ghost, or an angel. He almost shivers; it's more like a vibration, where it touches him, and it doesn't quite go away even when the absence of cold is noticeable. It's enough to make his mouth dry, as always when he's been waiting and he's getting edgy.
But as soon as he starts to take a breath deep enough to be calming there's a tongue on his lips and a hand in his hair; he tenses first, out of habit, and it takes the sharp sting of nails on his hip to remind him that he can do nothing but give in. It's perfect, for that moment where he relaxes and all he knows is the brush of linen and the temptation to lean into the kiss, almost a natural and involuntary movement.
The idea that something is missing comes to him unbidden, with a force unlike anything he's experienced coming from within. Please, he thinks over and over, and he would say it if he knew what he would be asking for, more than this casual exploration that he doesn't fight against, less than the total abandon he glimpsed and would gladly never leave.
"Please, what?" It's said into the hollow just where his shoulder starts to angle upwards and there's so much to feel that he doesn't know what's worse. "Want me to keep touching you?" The sudden grip on his chest makes him gasp and try to recoil. "Tighten these ropes, give you something to strain against when you finally let yourself react to my hands?" The voice seems to speak to that thing inside that's changing shape and spreading through his veins, as if drawing it out of hiding and giving it a new kind of power.
"What do you want, Sean? What can I give you?"
The light catches on blond hair and a flash of silver, and he hears how can I make you stay? in the silence that is broken only by the sound of uneven breathing.
"Whatever you'll give me, just please..." He hates how his voice changes just enough to betray him; it breaks and then rises just enough to expose him and make him feel vulnerable, like his lack of control is revealed.
He can no longer move so freely; there is pressure and tension but no pain, and nothing to distract him. This time it's the breathlessness of anticipation that's made the blood rush to his head and make him dizzy; he can see the outline of someone moving around him, and then he begins to slide. There's something like a thin line of ice that moves over each of his ribs until cold fire starts to burn there, where the air meets liquid that barely moves; then warmth, finally, as he realises that it's his blood being licked away. It stings and only a faint heat remains beneath, until he twists away from pain that sparks over his hip like lightning and the rope moves enough to reopen the cuts, or all that he can count in between each touch.
When there's no longer any time to breathe or to hide, he rests; he feels that moment, when he sighs and leans into the soft and harsh touches that never let him go, that he can't escape from if there was anywhere else he'd rather be. It's easier, then, like his body is fluid and limber and everything is as perfect as it could be.
He doesn't expect what happens next, how gentle it is or that he reacts so strongly. He whines when it stops, and tries to follow it but it's like he has no energy left for movements that require intent; the fingertips that trace unknown sigils on his skin guide how he twists and shivers, though they have no force behind them. The ropes seem to become tighter as he moves and he can't be sure that he hears the words whispered into his ear for all they sounded to have come from a distance. But he needs this, like he needs air and he feels like he'll never be able to get enough. He's so close; it feels like an almost, if there was just that bit more, or he knew what to ask for, anything...
He opens to the kiss and this time he clings to it; he tastes sulfur, but only briefly. His own blood tastes like salt and feels warm on his tongue; his lip is bleeding and he's not sure how that happened, only that the kiss is over. There's a sharp, narrow touch over his chest and then his stomach and his side, until it's like his entire body is raw and exposed, and then a hand on his shaft and the other sliding beneath, inside.
"Come for me," he hears through some unnatural haze that still descends and holds him down as firmly as any restraint. There's only a moment of stillness before he does, and the world starts to fade into a uniform-grey black and the last of the light sparks as if in time with the wave that threatens to overwhelm him with its unfamiliar intensity.
"I know you," he says, instead of the thank you he meant; there's other things to say, like why me and may I.
"I wanted you, is that not enough?"
He wants to answer no but oblivion hits; he spirals until everything is still and even sound means nothing.
Do you want to go back? He doesn't know if he's asking himself or if he's being tested; if his dreams are no longer havens from the things he must do and can't leave behind.
What if I asked you to stay?
I'll come back.
Yes. I think you will.
He wakes up; there is light, dull and blinding, and no sign of Lucifer but the marks he left behind. The walls are green and dirty and there are people in pale coats watching him from the other side of the curtain. Lucifer's marks are still ignited under his skin; their burn is muted and he feels no pain, only an empty sort of ache where agony should have remained.
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Thanks so much!!!! ^_^
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However, coming back now I wanted to say that you created the perfect Sadist in your teasing Lucifer who never yields to fullfil Sean’s wishes completely but just give him so much that he longs for more. All this in this claustrophobic surrounding makes a perfect setting.
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