protective_logic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
protective_logic) wrote2015-07-18 06:49 pm
protective_logic) wrote2015-07-18 06:49 pm
Getting The Dust Out
The basement is no proper place to end a date, really. It's not like it's finished. Mostly it's a work and storage place. So it's filled with dust, with cobwebs. Hell, there's even Sigma's left behind bed in the corner (the mattress had been claimed for Fort Purple of course). The light is spotty at best, the area is quiet and sort of creepy, and Delta hates coming down here.
Soon, if all goes well, it will be his workspace, and all because of Maine. The wonderful man standing at the base of the stairs, contemplating the area. Looking pointedly at a section by the stairs that has room for a table and some lights and probably all Delta will need for his work. A table already stands on the side, filled with abandoned or broken toys, with little free space on it.
"Here," Maine says, and Delta moves forward with him. Someday this will be his little domain. He almost looks forward to it.
"I think a cork board or something will help," he agrees. "Hang up my tools. But I'd need a grounded line for some of the tools."
Maine considers that for a moment.
"And a stable table..."
A hand grabs Delta's wrist and he finds himself pulled before Maine. There's barely even a moment to chuckle and think it's time for a new 'lesson' before he's lifted up to sit on the edge of the table.
"Seems sturdy enough to me," Maine observes, even as he leans in, and Delta's eyes close as lips reach his neck. And with that done, the world feels endless. Time means nothing, because they are hands and lips all over him. Maybe it's a second before his shirt is off, dropped somewhere, and maybe it's hours. Either way he finds himself gasping and groaning at the pressure. Teeth nip and tongue caresses and lips smear all over his skin. There will be marks, he knows that with each faint moan his boyfriend pulls from his lips. Frankly, Delta is glad for it.
It will only reinforce how true this moment is.
"Delta."
His voice is a whisper on tired lips, and the sound of the hunger there sends a shudder up his spine. Beautiful, that want. If only he knew how to sate it.
Maine pushes forward and Delta spreads his legs a bit, not wanting them between him and the source of his joy. His, dare he say it, pleasure? Teeth find his neck and when Maine pulls him closer, Delta finds his legs wrapped around the larger man's waist. It's for stability, he tells himself, but there is more and they both know it. Do they dare test the boundaries they've laid in place so far?
Maine's hand shifting to his ass sure seems to imply they are. For a moment he's tense, his fingers digging into Maine's shoulders with a force that might bruise another, but not this man. Not his boyfriend. All it seems to do is encourage Maine to knead at skin, and Delta... moans. It isn't quiet, it isn't a whisper. It's loud enough that Delta thinks it might wake someone sleeping up on the second floor. Both of them are silent and still for a while, and when nothing comes of it, Maine goes back to the touch, and all Delta can do is bury his face against the other man's neck and try to keep silent.
Another minute, or eternity, and Delta shakes. Too much building up in him, too much want. His siblings have all warned him this moment might come, when the yearn is too great, and all he wants is now. Here and now and however he can have it. In his head he knows that this is too much, too soon, too...
He gasps and whimpers as the hand on his ass moves. Slides up and around the top edge of his pants. He's panting now, body shaking, all of him weak with desire.
"Maine." The word a harsh breath, and he can hear his own need, thick with want and barely a whisper.
They share a look. No confirmation needed, and certain that it will stop if the word be but uttered.
There it is, then, the slow drag of a palm over him through his pants and everything about the world is a spinning mess with no thought and all sensation. His hips rock up and their lips press together and everything is heat. The pleasure of a touch ramped up to degrees he didn't know how to handle. Things pushed aside so Delta can lean further back, and fumbling as pants are undone. This, then, is it. The moment where they...
A hand around him, warm and strong and Delta sobs in pleasure against his boyfriend, his partner's neck. His heart beats to the pace set by Maine's hand, each thump painfully slow. It feels like he's dying from his pleasure, his voice coming in quick whines and quiet pleas. Everything in his heart building up. His whole body tense, waiting on the cusp of something he cannot fathom.
Then the world is gone beneath him and there is nothing to be seen or heard, just felt. Deep within himself and bubbling out. Metaphors of pleasure and joy writ on his heart, and his head against Maine's neck, panting to get his breath back.
"Good?"
"Good," Delta agrees very readily. "Not sure I'm going to remember, though. Maybe you'll give me another lesson sometime?"
His chuckle is huffed against Delta's neck, which is again being kissed. In a few moments, Delta knows, his boyfriend will get him tidied up. That's just Maine's way. He's considerate like that.
In the morning, when he wakes, there are no bruises. This time Delta thinks he doesn't mind the dreaming.
Soon, if all goes well, it will be his workspace, and all because of Maine. The wonderful man standing at the base of the stairs, contemplating the area. Looking pointedly at a section by the stairs that has room for a table and some lights and probably all Delta will need for his work. A table already stands on the side, filled with abandoned or broken toys, with little free space on it.
"Here," Maine says, and Delta moves forward with him. Someday this will be his little domain. He almost looks forward to it.
"I think a cork board or something will help," he agrees. "Hang up my tools. But I'd need a grounded line for some of the tools."
Maine considers that for a moment.
"And a stable table..."
A hand grabs Delta's wrist and he finds himself pulled before Maine. There's barely even a moment to chuckle and think it's time for a new 'lesson' before he's lifted up to sit on the edge of the table.
"Seems sturdy enough to me," Maine observes, even as he leans in, and Delta's eyes close as lips reach his neck. And with that done, the world feels endless. Time means nothing, because they are hands and lips all over him. Maybe it's a second before his shirt is off, dropped somewhere, and maybe it's hours. Either way he finds himself gasping and groaning at the pressure. Teeth nip and tongue caresses and lips smear all over his skin. There will be marks, he knows that with each faint moan his boyfriend pulls from his lips. Frankly, Delta is glad for it.
It will only reinforce how true this moment is.
"Delta."
His voice is a whisper on tired lips, and the sound of the hunger there sends a shudder up his spine. Beautiful, that want. If only he knew how to sate it.
Maine pushes forward and Delta spreads his legs a bit, not wanting them between him and the source of his joy. His, dare he say it, pleasure? Teeth find his neck and when Maine pulls him closer, Delta finds his legs wrapped around the larger man's waist. It's for stability, he tells himself, but there is more and they both know it. Do they dare test the boundaries they've laid in place so far?
Maine's hand shifting to his ass sure seems to imply they are. For a moment he's tense, his fingers digging into Maine's shoulders with a force that might bruise another, but not this man. Not his boyfriend. All it seems to do is encourage Maine to knead at skin, and Delta... moans. It isn't quiet, it isn't a whisper. It's loud enough that Delta thinks it might wake someone sleeping up on the second floor. Both of them are silent and still for a while, and when nothing comes of it, Maine goes back to the touch, and all Delta can do is bury his face against the other man's neck and try to keep silent.
Another minute, or eternity, and Delta shakes. Too much building up in him, too much want. His siblings have all warned him this moment might come, when the yearn is too great, and all he wants is now. Here and now and however he can have it. In his head he knows that this is too much, too soon, too...
He gasps and whimpers as the hand on his ass moves. Slides up and around the top edge of his pants. He's panting now, body shaking, all of him weak with desire.
"Maine." The word a harsh breath, and he can hear his own need, thick with want and barely a whisper.
They share a look. No confirmation needed, and certain that it will stop if the word be but uttered.
There it is, then, the slow drag of a palm over him through his pants and everything about the world is a spinning mess with no thought and all sensation. His hips rock up and their lips press together and everything is heat. The pleasure of a touch ramped up to degrees he didn't know how to handle. Things pushed aside so Delta can lean further back, and fumbling as pants are undone. This, then, is it. The moment where they...
A hand around him, warm and strong and Delta sobs in pleasure against his boyfriend, his partner's neck. His heart beats to the pace set by Maine's hand, each thump painfully slow. It feels like he's dying from his pleasure, his voice coming in quick whines and quiet pleas. Everything in his heart building up. His whole body tense, waiting on the cusp of something he cannot fathom.
Then the world is gone beneath him and there is nothing to be seen or heard, just felt. Deep within himself and bubbling out. Metaphors of pleasure and joy writ on his heart, and his head against Maine's neck, panting to get his breath back.
"Good?"
"Good," Delta agrees very readily. "Not sure I'm going to remember, though. Maybe you'll give me another lesson sometime?"
His chuckle is huffed against Delta's neck, which is again being kissed. In a few moments, Delta knows, his boyfriend will get him tidied up. That's just Maine's way. He's considerate like that.
In the morning, when he wakes, there are no bruises. This time Delta thinks he doesn't mind the dreaming.