DISTORTION
by elfin
Hannibal -
It's wrong what they say about time healing. It doesn't heal.
It distorts.
I don't know why I'm going to tell you what I'm about to tell you.
I don't know why this has stayed inside me for so long. But I feel
you've a right to know, if indeed you still have any rights.
There's something about that night, the night you killed me, that I've
never told a living soul until now. And it has haunted me; my dreams
my fantasies, for so very long.
I lie in the dark and relive that night. Sometimes it ends how it
ended in reality. In pain and rage and terror and death.
But sometimes it ends differently.
Sometimes, I turn and you don't slide that stiletto blade into me like
a piece of meat. You're close, as close as you were then. But
your hands are on my hips and your eyes are asking permission to do what
you need to do as much as I need to feel it.
I don't move, don't speak. But I nod almost imperceptibly and it's
all you need. You push me carefully against the edge of the bookcase
to gain the edge of height over me. You lean forward the remaining
inches and cover my mouth with yours while barely touching me.
The tip of your tongue is hard as it traces my lips before pushing between
them. You taste me as I taste you, sweeping that wet muscle over my
own tongue, so surprised I haven't managed to respond yet. I don't
want you thinking that this isn't what I want, so I try to move my hands
from the edge of the lower shelf where my fingers are gripping the wood.
But you make this sound like, "no", and use your own hands to reach behind
me and cover mine for a moment, but a moment long enough to instruct me
to keep them where they are.
Then your hands return to my hips, stroking firmly.
All I can do, then, is tilt my head and welcome your tongue into my mouth
before pushing into yours. I'm so hard I know you can feel it even
through my jeans. For once in my life, my reaction to a kiss doesn't
embarrass me. All I know is a lust I hadn't even been aware of until
you were so close I could smell you.
As the kiss deepens, your strong hands move under my heavy leather jacket,
caressing me through my shirt. One hand presses on the small of my
back, bringing my bludgeoning erection up along side yours. I can feel
how hard you are too, and I feel a surge of elation. Your other hand
spreads over one cheek of my ass, fingers sliding down, tracing the seam
of my jeans down over my inner thigh. It's so intimate a touch I can't
contain the shiver that runs down my spine, and I know you feel it.
Your smile against my mouth isn't mocking. You're enjoying this as
much as I am and suddenly I want to give you more, want to give you everything.
The hand on my back traces my spine up, fingers following every bump.
I want to touch you desperately, but then again, I don't. I want to
submit to you, ask you to do to me things I can't even put into words.
When you end the kiss slowly, and pull back slightly to look at me, I wonder
if I even have to ask.
In the months I thought I'd been getting to know you, you've been learning
me. Your eyes close and you lean in again, but not to claim my mouth
this time. I tip my head back as your lips touch my throat and you
suck so gently on my Adam's-apple. It's one of the most erotic ways
in which anyone's ever kissed me. But I know that tonight you're going
to show me so many things that each one will be surpassed by the next.
Mouth busy at my throat, your hands now come up to push my jacket off my
shoulders. I raise first one arm, then the next to let it drop to
the floor. Your arms both come around me and your mouth moves back
up to mine. I've never kissed anyone with such desperate need.
Still we haven't spoken a word to each other, and I know we won't.
Words would just be lies.
With my jacket gone, my shirt is next. Your fingers make light work
of the buttons until you stand back a little to push the material back on
my shoulders. You don't push it all the way off, but leave it hanging.
I know you like the lack of contrast between the white cotton and my pale
skin. Silently, you trace the edges of the shirt with teasing fingertips,
followed always by your searching gaze.
Your path is agonisingly slow and not once do you stray to touch my skin.
Down one side, and then up the other. I can feel your heat on my bare
skin. I can feel the ghost of your caress through the thin material.
More than either of those things, your regard is a hot flame marking me
as yours. But none of it is enough.
Finally, you step forward and kiss me again. As your tongue slides
over mine, your hands move to brand my skin. Your fingers spread over
my ribs, always moving, exploring. When a fingertip brushes a hard
nipple I cannot contain a tiny moan of arousal and frustration.
I'm so hard, my cock hurts. Were it not crushed in my jeans I might
have come already. But I can't, not like this, and you seem to know
that.
I've made no attempt to touch you and you haven't invited it. I know
somehow that my responses to your every caress are enough for you, for now.
Again, almost accidentally, you touch a stone-hard nipple and my cock jerks
in reaction. This time, you purposely start to rub over it, back and
forth with the rough pad of your thumb while your fingers spread to curl
around my rib cage. Rubbing becomes a subtle flicking before I feel
the nub squeezed hard between thumb and index finger.
It's not enough. That has never been enough, and you know it.
You break off the kiss and push on my shoulder until I'm leaning back further
against the cabinet. Lowering your head, you flick your tongue over
the nipple you've been erotically abusing. It's an experiment but
it gets the reaction you hoped for - nothing - and with a smile I can feel
without seeing you cover the nipple with your lips and start to suck.
I'm not prepared for the bite.
Streaks of pain shoot out along my nerves, chased by the thrill of pleasure
so deep it surpasses mere orgasm. That's a one-off, this can continue
for so long. Now you've found it, you won't stop until I'm screaming
and it's exactly what I want.
I suddenly see a future filled with your mouth on me, with your experience
guiding me. All I have to do is trust you, submit to you, and I know
you'll have so much to show me.
You move from one nipple to the other and back again. You alternate
between sucking and licking. When you bite, it's quick and sudden.
There's no pattern, so I hover on the brink of anticipation until the rush
of the pain and the balm of pleasure flows over me again like waves on a
beach.
You know when I can't take anymore.
You lick the two red buds, blowing on them gently, sending shivers through
me.
Then, you lean in and kiss me again, gentler than before, bringing me down
a little. We both know that if you touched my cock then I'd come,
and neither of us want that.
Instead, you just kiss me, tasting me, for a long time. You ease
me up slightly, taking the weight off my back where I've been leaning into
the edges of the shelves. Only when the tremors have quit racing along
my nerves do you ease the shirt from my shoulders at last and start to unfasten
my jeans.
It's a shock when my hot, aching cock springs free from my underwear.
Easing my jeans and boxers down until they fall by themselves, you help
me to step out of them and kick them away, following my clothes with my
shoes.
Kissing again, you stroke my naked ass with your hands, palms kneading,
fingers prying.
You trace the fold where my cheeks meet my thighs. Run a teasing
path along my crack without the slightest pressure. And then one hand
moves around to touch the tightening skin of my balls.
My moans are swallowed into your mouth. A second later, when you
crouch in front of me, my balls follow them.
"Fuck!" It's a bright word that escapes into the room. I can
feel you smiling as, one at a time, you suck tenderly on my testicles in
a way no one ever has. Lather the wrinkling skin, you play the sensitive
sacs around in your mouth until I'm clawing the wood behind me.
My cock, held out of the way by an almost impersonal, cupping hand, is
ignored for now and I'm thankful. I don't know how much longer I can
hold back.
Letting go of my cock now, you cheekily swipe your tongue up it's length,
lingering at the head where it has been leaking. I watch your eyes
close momentarily as you taste me there for the first time. You seem
to be savouring the taste and as I continue to stare down, you ease my foreskin
back and lick every drop of pre-cum from my sensitive crown, pressing a
preventative thumb almost painfully into the root as you do.
You know me better than I know myself.
Standing now, you hold up a hand to still me from moving, and undress before
me. It's not a sensual striptease, but a functional necessity.
You fold your clothes tidily but not obsessively, and drop them onto the
nearby chair in which I'd sat when we'd talked. It has been moved out
of the way, and once naked, your proud cock - not overly long but thicker
than my own - jutting out at me, you reach for me.
Running one hand along my arm, you collect my hand in yours and lead me
across to the desk. I know what to do without needing instructions.
Bending over it, I settle my weight on my elbows and forearms, spreading
my legs like a whore. A tiny voice in my head is taunting me, calling
me a slut. But it's been so long and I need this. I love this.
I expect to feel your erection between my cheeks, but instead, your hands
start to massage the backs of my thighs and I feel only your fingers and
your breath on me as I'm opened and explored.
It has always been such an erotic humiliation to have another man part
my buttocks with his fingers and expose the hole there. So vulnerable,
I feel like a bug under a microscope, yet still the attention turns me on
like nothing else.
You run a single finger along my crack, so different to the first time
you did so because now you touch me between my cheeks, prying me apart until
you reach my anus and press the finger pad against it. But you don't
try to breach me, don't force yourself inside. You just study me, still
stroking me.
A few moments later, the finger is replaced by something wet and I feel
the hard tip of your tongue tracing the ring of muscle before sliding easily
passed it. I have no defence against the slippery muscle entering
me. There's no pain because this is no more than my hole is used to.
It's warm, wet, and unbearably intimate.
I feel your mouth against me as you extend your tongue as far as you can,
pushing it into me, exploring inside the hot channel of my rectum.
When you add a single finger, sliding it inside me along the guiding path
of your tongue, I hardly notice. But you use it to find my prostate,
and then that digit alone has my full attention. Once found, that
sweet spot is assaulted, licked and stroked until I'm rocking back on to
you.
Two fingers now, scissoring a little, preparing me for the thick cock that
will follow. Not that two fingers are going to do much. Your
mouth is now engaged in biting my lightly buttocks lightly, while you've
moved my cock upwards, against the hard surface of the desk. The slight
pain when I put my weight on it is enough to stop me coming for now.
I can't help but wonder what other methods you have at your disposal to prevent
my climax until you want it.
It's too late for that this time.
Standing now, you put one hand on my back and press the head of your cock
against my relaxed anus. I breath out, and you push inside, not slowly,
but in one, long, quick jab. I bite the back of my hand to stop myself
screaming.
Both hands now stroke my back and sides, wherever they can reach without
you having to lean over me. You murmur things to me that I can't make
out, but the rich velvet of your voice soothes me, and slowly I relax once
again.
But still you remain still, letting me get used to your bulk inside me.
It's an odd, full feeling. I can imagine what you look like, buried
in me, the ring of muscle stretched around the base of your cock, pulsing,
fighting to expel you but held open.
Finally, you pull out of me, all the way, and I'm surprised to feel you
crouch down again behind me and lick once again at my anus. You're rimming
me, maybe tasting a little of yourself there. My own cock is throbbing,
prolonged arousal making every inch of my body sensitive to the slightest
touch.
When you stand, I expect to be breached, but instead you ease me upright
and take my hand. Without a word, you lead me upstairs.
Your bedroom is plain. There's a dark wooden four-poster bed in the
centre of it, dark red covers which feel as luxurious as they first appear.
The curtains are already drawn and that's the most I notice as I lie down
on my front and spread my legs.
You move behind me, wrapping one arm under me and drawing me back and up.
I'm again leaning on my elbows and forearms, but the bed is so much more
comfortable than the desk and it's an easy position to be in.
The pain of your sudden entry keeps my own climax at bay. This time,
you don't pause but start into a slowly paced rhythm that takes you deep
inside me before you pull back until just the head of your cock remains within.
Every thrust is a little harder than the previous one. The angle
is perfect, striking my prostate each time you enter, stroking it when you
withdraw.
It isn't long before my cock returns to its former glory and starts to
pulse with impending climax. You know, somehow. You lean over
me, penetrating more deeply than before as you wrap your arms around me
and sit back, pulling me up with you.
Your legs tucked under you, you sit me in your lap, my knees bent, feet
either side of your shins, thighs spread wide over yours. Your cock
is buried inside me, my own weight now impaling me.
Your arms stay locked around me, one hand teasing my previously abandoned
nipples, the other forming a tight first around my swollen cock.
Reaching one arm back, I touch you for the first time since we started
this. I stroke your shoulders and neck while you kiss the top of my
spine, biting me ever-so-gently, nipping the skin in your teeth.
I'm so close to coming now. I've waited so long, I know it's going
to be painfully brutal, but I want it more than anything.
Leaving my nipples once more, that hand goes to my hip and you direct me
to rise up on my knees and then to drop back down. It takes me a single
try to get it right, and then I start to fuck myself on your cock as your
hand strokes me with a tightening grip.
I don't know which of us comes first. I'm aware of you suddenly holding
me down in your lap, of your head thrown back and your cock growing impossibly
bigger inside me. At the same time, my orgasm crashes over me, my
semen flooding out over your fingers and hand. It's like liquid fire
spilling from me. The pain of it is so entwined with the absolute
pleasure that for a moment, I don't feel either.
But I know your cock is bathing me inside with the same white fluid, and
that alone is enough to push the pleasure to the forefront of my mind and
along my seared nerves.
Locked so intimately together, we shudder against one another for a long
time.
Afterwards, you ease me forward onto my stomach, but follow me, not yet
taking your softening cock from within me as you lie over me.
When you do eventually pull out of me, you tell me to lie still.
They're the first real words that have been spoken in an hour or so, and
they sound strange to me. I do as you say, closing my eyes.
You remain there, sitting between my legs, not touching me.
I never know why. It's my fantasy and still I couldn't tell you what
you're doing back there.
All I know is that after a time you fetch a cloth, and start to wipe between
my legs with an almost loving touch.
That's it.
Don't think for a moment that I want this. Not now, not when that
blade was what you thrust into me that night, not your cock. I do wonder,
if you knew then how much more I wanted from you, would you have killed
me? Probably. Maybe you'd have fucked me first though.
Maybe I wouldn't have lived.
Maybe that would have been for the best.
Always yours,
W.
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