bloodwords | [ open post ]

The way Kell says his name surprises him. But more than that is the kiss that follows.

As close as they were. The sparks that barely shot over their skin, between them, around them like the beginnings of a thunderstorm should have been telling. However, when one has gone without any level of intimacy for as long as he had—a kiss like that is mind shattering.

The sound he breathes is shocked, surprised, and hungry all at the same time.

Bold of you, Kell.

His mouth responds eagerly. Too eagerly. Lips parting against the others, and Kell tastes the way he smells; sweet.

Kell's arms wrap around the other, pressing close as Holland lets this happen. As he kisses back, hunger meeting hunger. There's something desperate in Holland, far more so than Kell but he does have his own desperation and hunger too. He tries to match Holland. His heart is racing and magic seems to be everywhere, colliding as he and the other fell into each other in a way.

Please don't stop, Kell pleaded inwardly, his arms wrapped tightly and his kiss still hard, hungry, searching but open, giving, encouraging Holland to take.

Whatever this was, it needed to stop. It needed to stop.

Control was something Holland had in spades. He knew how to school himself into barely existing. Barely feeling anything. But Kell was like lightning in a bottle and the lid was barely screwed on. His arms were wrapped around him so tightly that Holland didn’t want them to let go.

But he couldn’t have him grabbing him like that either.

Kell ended up on his back on the cot with his wrists pinned on either side of his head, and Holland caught his breath; panting softly against the younger mans mouth, “You don’t really want this.” Me.

Holland didn’t want this. Or at least he isn’t been aware that he did until those lips were against his.

It's fast, one moment lost in that kiss, the hunger and holding on to Holland so tightly as if he would disappear if he let go. But then he's on his back staring up at the older antari, his wrists pinned and he knew if Holland didn't want them to move they would not be moving so he puts up only the smallest resistance to the hold, checking the strength of it.

"I do. I want you, Holland, like this," his breath was heavy and he wants to touch him again, hold him but he can't.

"Don't you want me too?" Kell dares to ask, he'd felt how the other had kissed him back, the hunger.

The amount of resistance, lack thereof really, ticks the corner of his mouth in what would have been a smirk. It wasn’t even a half assed attempt at a struggle and it left Holland watching Kell with a different kind of curiosity.

He felt it again. The crackle of power hidden between them. And it made him wonder...not for the first time, what it would be like to be with someone that was as hard to kill as he was. Someone who would hold their own. Surprise him. Endure.

Kell had much to learn and not enough time to learn it from him, but he was far from weak. That held its own appeal and Holland’s grip tightened. A pulse around the others wrists, relax, grip, relax...

And he was headstrong. Persistent. Aggravating. Intoxicating. Bratty.

Holland licked his lips and brushed his nose lightly against Kells, an oddly affectionate gesture before moving to whisper lowly into his ear, “More than you know.”

Kell couldn't pin exactly what it is that was going on in Holland's mind -- no, he couldn't even get close. He desperately wanted to understand, to know. He keeps his gaze on Holland, the grip the other had on him, the pulse of it had his heart racing, his actual pulse too fast. And he should have been worried about the strength that Holland held him down with, the knowledge that if kell really tried he probably couldn't escape it, at least not easily not with Holland. But he didn't want to escape anyway. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

his eyes flutter when the other's nose brushes along it, a shiver moving through him at the affection, warming him. But the whisper, the breath on his ears the words themselves feel as if they create a molton core inside of him, burning desire.

"Then take."

If Holland has wanted to harm Kell, he would have done it by now. Kell was not the one that deserved that particular outcome.

His eyes closed and for a moment he just enjoyed the pleasure that came from those words. But he wasn’t someone that took, not at his core.

So when he pulled back enough to hover a breaths space apart he shook his head, “No, you must give. I will not take anything from you.”

Even still, one hand strayed, relinquishing one wrist so that he could run his palm down the others front. His finger tips caught on seams of fabric, and nudged it up enough to feel the skin beneath.

Kell looks at up when they're face to face. He understood why Holland needs that. He starts to reach to touch him only to remember his hands are pinned and he relaxes under the hold again, but then one is free. He shivers as Holland's hands move over him, electricity on his skin and when his fingers met skin it was fire. He could barely breathe for a moment.

He started to reach, to touch but then he waited, pushing down the urge to show how serious he is when he speaks.

"I will give you everything I can." He didn't know how much that was. Maybe he wouldn't know until they hit that point where he could give no more.

The timing for this couldn’t be worse. Holland supposed it would do as a final farewell, in the end. A sort of parting gift. Something to remember him by. Something that didn’t involve horrible meetings and betrayal.

With a short nod, Holland sat back and reached to undo his shirt, “You have to be quiet,” he says and after a moment there was a hint at a genuine smirk (it was there and then I was gone again) “, Or I could gag you.”

Kell's moving to pull his own shirt over his head, quickly just so he can spend the time watching Holland remove his. Every inch of him is beautiful, scars only adding to it.

"Maybe you should," Kell said, honestly he's not sure if he could stay quiet. Despite his forwardness, his openness to Holland this isn't an area he has much experience in at all but he's eager to give. If he gave enough could somehow they both survive all this? It's a strange and errant thought but it somehow sticks in his mind.

"I feel like you might make it difficult to stay quiet."

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you,” Holland murmurs with a depth to his voice that is very different than his usual tone.

Setting his shirts aside, he take a moment to let Kell just look. For an Antari Holland has more scars than usual. They aren’t the small ones from cuts used for spell work. They’re reminders of his past. Of things taken from him. And he doesn’t care enough to shy from them. Especially now when Kells own shirt is removed. His skin is perfectly beautiful; fitting of that bright red hair and the cool blue of his eye. The stark contrast of black against ivory makes him hum low in his throat.

Kell is striking.

And apparently has zero self preservation.

Holland’s brow arches and his gaze slides from the others face to the front of his pants, “Take those off for me. You won’t be needing them.”

Kell dares a touch, fingertips touching a scar briefly. He doesn't know why he's drawn to them, why he finds them so beautiful. He's transfixed. Holland had always been ... interesting in his own way, but it's different now. Not all that different but his desires, his reactions have shifted. His voice was enough to make his stomach flutter, a twitch in his cock. Why?

He keeps his eyes on Holland as his hands reach down to his pants, making quick work of the fastenings and pulling them off and discarding them to the side, leaving him naked, his cock half hard and his breathing picking up. What is it about Holland's orders that sends heat straight through him?

His fingers reach out again to touch another scar, lingering, starting to trace it with his fingertip.

While Kell is busy admiring, or just touching, he isn’t sure which, Holland shifts closer on the cot. He’s still wearing his own pants but it doesn’t matter right now. There are other matters to attend to.

Long, scarred fingers trail over the sharp dip of a hip and gently wrap around the others length. The velvety warmth of him, still half soft, feels nice in his hand. Heavy and pulsing softly with life. He strokes him and noses into the red curls above Kells ear, “If we had the time...and real privacy...I could show you so many other things that magic could be used for,” he murmured, then teeth teased at the shell of Kells ear, the tip of his tongue licking out briefly before he continued, “We could have enjoyed life together if things had been done differently.” You could have been mine, and I yours.

Kell gasps when Holland takes hold of him. His breathing picking up and his head tilting to the side as the words, the voice wrap around him like a touch that was everywhere. His body felt more alive than it ever had. He aches for time with Holland. Why couldn't there be more? There's a sense of sorrow that rises and he has to bite it back, focusing on the heat, on the way his cock is hardening at the touch, the other's mouth teasing at his ear which is turning out to be particularly sensitive. He's rather sure he probably will need gagged if that is enough to draw such sounds from him.

"Holland..." he can't help how the words come out slightly choked because the words hurt, and he ached for a life they hadn't had the chance to live... and maybe if Holland and his king had made a different choice...maybe everything would have been different. But it could also be said that if Red London hadn't shut White London off... but then perhaps they wouldn't be the only two sides of the same coin for so long.

"Maybe...we can still find a way," the voice is small and he knows it's fruitless, his hands splaying over the other's side, stroking along it. It's strange such physical pleasure while his heart feels like it's being torn.

Holland almost pulls away at that. How dare he, even for a moment, even hint that he should hope for anything...

There was no time. The mistakes had been made. His end would come in the near future and that was the way it would be. It was the only way. Holland wasn’t afraid of death. The mere idea of it was the most romantic bedmate he’d ever had. But, now...

His hand didn’t stop moving. It couldn’t. If he let go he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to touch him again.

Kell sounded so sincere that it made his heart ache. They weren’t close. Barely friends. If even that. But the idea of not existing together was a new kind of terror.

No sing along Kells neck, he breathes in the scent of Red London, of Kell, and buried his face against his skin. Kissing it. Nipping it.

With a swallow, he pulled back just enough to look down into Kells face, to admire the way his emotions were always right there on the surface. He shouldn’t have turned him away all of those years ago.

“We have this moment, Kell,” he said softly, “do not burden yourself by hoping for more.”

It is strange how the distance between them was not a straight line. At times it was like disparate dots that didn't quite connect into anything, everything and nothing. But they were so close now, he knew Holland didn't like what he had said but he couldn't help it when it was the truth, couldn't help the way his hips arch too into the other's hand. He had gotten fully hard under the attention and is greedy for more of it.

"Holland," he breathes the other's name again as he easily tilts his head back, exposing his neck to him, swallowing each kiss rippling through him, the nips a shock. Please don't ever stop, he thought but luckily did not say out loud.

He looked up at the other, and there's something raw in his eyes, desire, pain, something intangible, the connection between them, his desire to give until he couldn't to Holland who deserves it after what he has been through.

"Do not deny me the opportunity to hope," Kell counters gently. "I can't give you my hope. But I will savor this moment."

Holland arches a brow again and just sighs, “Such stubbornness,” but he steals a deeper kiss just then; a biting, hungry, needful thing laced with affection that only Kell will understand.

But when he breaks away from it with a little hum of approval, he licks Kells bottom lip and and slips a rolled handkerchief into his mouth, tying it behind his head.

“Be a good boy,” he says, kissing his forehead and then pushes him back onto the cot, enjoying the way he sprawls against it. For a moment he has the mind to imagine Kell like this, but on soft sheets and a bed that could fit at least three. Tied up and needy in a way that had nothing to do with escape.

He moves to stand and finally rids himself of his own pants, but the belt he holds onto; looping it one way and then another before his gaze steadies on Kells face, “Hold your hands out.”

Kell is lost in that kiss, no desire to argue about his stubbornness. He is stubborn and that has been a boon to him more often than not. Maybe his stubbornness can save Holland despite Holland not wanting to be saved. He moans, lifting into the kiss, soaking in the need, echoing the hunger and kissing back just as fiercely, just as much affection. He's slightly dazed by the intensity of it when Holland backs away, leaves him wanting more and he honestly didn't see the handkerchief coming, a muffled low sound, not quite of protest...just surprise.

He feels his cock jump at the instruction. Be a good boy should have angered him but instead it just sent heat skittering all over his hips pushing upward, searching for friction he was not going to get. If he hadn't been gagged he might have begged.

When Holland pulls off his pants it takes Kell a moment to comply with the order, distracted by more of his body exposed and he ached to touch, a whimper indicating that even as he did obey, holding his hands out to Holland obediently.

With care, Holland takes each of Kells hands and pulls them through the corresponding loops before tightening them up as makeshift cuffs. He remember the last time Kell was cuffed, though, and leans in to kiss each of his palms. This weren't real binds, they weren't a threat. They were a promise of something else.

His eyes met Kells for one reason only: You are safe. I swear I won't hurt you.

And then they're gone, watching as his hands smooth a path along the others arms, pushing them above his head once more to rest against the pillow below his head. "Don't move them from this position," he orders calmly.

Hollands voice is rougher than usual, but he still doesn't raise it. He never saw the point in yelling. If you couldn't command people by just speaking, then what use was their obedience?

Dipping down and began to trail his hands along the younger mans body; palms flat, fingers splayed to contour to all of the dips of lean muscle and bone. Memorizing his body for no other reason other than he wanted to. Kisses were scattered in the wake of his hands, tongue lashing out to taste his skin, teasing over a pink nipple before teeth caught and tugged.

His own cock ached as he shifted between the others legs, pressing their hips together for the simple pleasure of touch. The weight of his arousal pressed against Kells thigh, throbbing with a want he couldn't deny now even if he wanted to (he didn't).

Kell's eyes follow Holland's movements and it takes a great deal of trust to allow Holland to bind him with something other than his own hands. He pushes away the echos of the memory, focusing on what he could see in Holland's arms and the rising anxiety fell to the wayside as he let go of it, giving himself over to this too. He had meant what he said.

There's a low sound as his fingers curl into his palms almost instinctively as they're pleased above his head -- a position that gives him no opportunity to reach and run his fingers over Holland or to hold him, pull him close. He could... but he wanted to be a good boy. So he'd keep his hands exactly where Holland guided them. He wouldn't disappoint him.

Kell thinks of the things that he maybe should have told Holland before he gagged him -- but then again he hadn't really seen the gag coming. That took he could be rid of but he was choosing to give this, his submission, obedience to Holland without question or hesitation tonight. If tonight is all they had, Holland would have all he desired of Kell.

The young Antari's eyes fall close when Holland begins to touch, explore, thorough and leaving his skin singing with sensation, so alive in his wake. Is it their magic that made it feel so vivid? He managed to stay quiet through most of it, even sensitive spots, his hands clenching tightly to stay quiet when those were hit, managing to keep it down to muffled whimpers of pleasure. But when the tongue teased over his nipple a whimper began but changed sharply into a moan, not completely muffled as his back arched up, hands coming up to grab at Holland's hair before he caught himself and dropped them back into position. It had been close but that had been... incredible.

Even so, that couldn't overshadow the feeling of Holland against his thigh, his breath hitching and his body thrumming with need for it, for Holland... to be complete with him. Is that insane?

Something like "Please," is muffled by his gag, his leg shifting trying to get a more satisfying touch.

Holland expected Kell to disobey a little. It was just the way Kell was. He hadn't expected to be amused by it, though. Kells fingers moved into his hair and the older Antari smirked against his skin, but before he could even utter anything about it, the hands were gone. Pressed against the pillow once more.

He almost missed them.

He did miss them.

He would have missed them more if he wasn't completely distracted by that moan, or the leg shifting against him like an eager puppy wanting attention. Kisses were peppered, gently nipped into skin as his mouth moved to the other nipple--everything was a balance. Or it should be.

They didn't have time for everything he wanted, though, and he sighed softly. If they had more time, more space, there would be so many things...but they didn't. He wanted to take his time with him, to take him apart and then put him back together again but the rock of the ship reminded him that that wasn't possible. In some ways, it thawed and broke his heart at the same time.

"Another time, another place," he murmured and reached up to release the belt from Kells wrists, let him touch, and then pulled the gag free, there are other ways to keep him quiet. He was on him completely a second later, sliding into a deeper kiss; a wanton thing, that devoured the youngers mouth, spurred on by the slide of their bodies as they moved flush against one another. Fitting in places he hadn't expected, grinding their arousals together. If they couldn't be a thunderstorm, they could still be an inferno; quick and bright.

Kell tried to hold back the moan as the other nipped, as he moved to the other nipple and he was caught in anticipation. In a turn he hadn't expected, Holland releases his wrists from the belt, pulls the handkerchief away. At first there was a terrible thought that maybe Holland had changed his mind and he was going to pull away, to stop this despite how much they both clearly wanted it, needed it.

The thought didn't have time to fully take root. Holland made sure of that with the weight of his body against Kell's. One hand went straight for Holland's hair, fingers curling into his scalp as the other's kiss crashes into him and Kell crashes back. His lips part, giving Holland full access, his tongue brushing and teasing against the other's as Holland explored his mouth. There were small sounds, catches of Kell's breath, whimpers into the kiss. Kell tried to keep quiet but he also didn't hold back letting Holland hear some of what he felt.

Especially as their cocks pressed together. His free hand moved over Holland's side, to his back, reaching to his ass, squeezing and urging him closer as if they could be any closer.

"Holland," the name fell from his lips into the other's mouth.

Those sounds were things Holland would keep tucked safely inside of his memory. Cherished. Savored.

Being quiet was still a priority but Holland appreciates that Kell was giving him a taste of what would have been heard doubled someplace else. He held that kiss, not wanting to stop because it felt so damned good. Pleasure of any kind had been far and few in between for him. Sometimes he didn’t even know if he remembered what it felt like. But here now it was something he had never felt. Not like this.

Moaning lowly, his hips rolled; again and again, grinding them together before he reached down and briefly stroked their cocks together. Fondling, feeling, and the friction caused a rumble in his chest.

“...how far...do you want this to go?”

Kell struggles not to moan loudly as the pressure, the friction and the delicious feel of Holland's length against his own. It became more difficult when Holland's hand joins the fray, stroking their cocks and Kell is left distracted by it, biting down on his lip the moment that Holland pulls way, hard to keep from making a sound that would surely get them caught.

He exhales at the question and looks up at Holland.

"I want to feel you..." he stumbles, not used to saying things like this. "I want you inside of me. I want to give you everything," he says softly and he should tell Holland that he hasn't done it before, he hesitates on it. "I've never given myself to anyone that way."

That response give Holland pause. His eyes slowly graze over every intricate, beautiful detail of the younger face.

He’s never given himself to a man. Ever. (Holland doesn’t have much room to talk; any and all of his encounters have been laced with pain and regret). But he’s willing to give himself to Holland. Right now. Knowing this is it.

Sighing shakily, he presses their foreheads together, “You offer too much...” This should be given to someone Kell actually cares about. But even that line of thinking doesn’t stop him from slipping his hand from their lengths to tease his fingertips against the others entrance; teasing, tracing.

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