Ficlet: Intoxication (R), for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
starcrossedgirl
Jan. 16th, 2010 11:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
obstinatrixTitle: Intoxication
Pairing: Shatnoy
Rating: ...R?
Summary: Exactly as requested, 'tail end of BDSM and smushy aftercare'.
Notes: This is, entirely and absolutely, forstarcrossedgirl, my partner in filthy deliciousness, my encouragement, my friend my Leonard. For no reason except that I love her, so there. :P
Warnings: See summary, really. BDSM. Not explicit, but very there.
Disclaimer: AHAHAHA. Yeah, didn't happen except in my head.
Leonard has a voice like whisky, a dark-gold burn that sears from the inside out. His fingers trace the paths leather-beaten across Bill's back, the pads of them rough where the nerves have near broken the surface. Not yet, he breathes, molten against Bill's ear. Bill's fingers twist in the rope, and he shudders his compliance.
Semen over weals is like candlewax spilled on burned skin. The heat of it stings for a moment, then bleeds into warmth, laving the edge of the pain like the tongue of a cat. The shock of it makes Bill twist in his restraints, Leonard's sharp cry unmaking, reforming him like clay. He is trembling now, but not yet, Leonard manages, not yet, and Bill whimpers acknowledgement, though his thigh muscles jump with the strain.
And then Leonard's fingers are there at his lips, salt-slick and white with his release, and Bill opens to them, curls his tongue around their tips as Leonard's lips brush at his jaw. All right, Billy. You can come for me now, he whispers. The sound of it shatters like glass on the rocks of Bill's consciousness, and the next thing he knows he is coming like high tide in a storm.
Afterwards, Leonard is gentleness itself, laying Bill down like a child or an offering, rubbing the blood back into his wrists. The chafe-marks ring his forearms, angry and raised, but Leonard is ready with his ointment and his kisses, his there, now, Billy and oh, you did so well. Bill's mind feels as if it has been loosened along with his body, languid and drunken in the best of all possible ways. There won't be any hangover in the morning, not from this. There will only be Leonard, tangled around him like a vine, and the marks on his back to remind him that he is loved.
Leonard is still mostly dressed as he shifts on the bed, arranging Bill's limbs for comfort, kissing his hair. Even like this, Bill knows that this will not do, and he tugs at the front of the black shirt - "Off. Please."
Leonard smiles indulgently, sitting up to tug off his boots. From the corner of his eye, Bill watches long fingers on leather, the tension of the muscles in Leonard's arms as he pulls his feet free. His trousers are open, and he sheds them easily; pulls his shirt up and over his head. When he turns back to Bill, his black eyes are full fathoms five, warmth in their depths like the unquenchable embers of an inferno. Bill raises an arm with an effort, muscles like liquid protesting such strain so soon. Leonard moves easily, fitting his body to Bill's, and his hands are careful on the back he has washed and anointed. Sshh, he breathes, kissing Bill's cheek, his lips. Time for sleep. You did so well for me, Billy.
He is boneless, now; sinks into his aches like warm water. Leonard is holding him, shielding him, and like this, he surrenders.
Pairing: Shatnoy
Rating: ...R?
Summary: Exactly as requested, 'tail end of BDSM and smushy aftercare'.
Notes: This is, entirely and absolutely, for
starcrossedgirl, my partner in filthy deliciousness, my encouragement, my friend Warnings: See summary, really. BDSM. Not explicit, but very there.
Disclaimer: AHAHAHA. Yeah, didn't happen except in my head.
Leonard has a voice like whisky, a dark-gold burn that sears from the inside out. His fingers trace the paths leather-beaten across Bill's back, the pads of them rough where the nerves have near broken the surface. Not yet, he breathes, molten against Bill's ear. Bill's fingers twist in the rope, and he shudders his compliance.
Semen over weals is like candlewax spilled on burned skin. The heat of it stings for a moment, then bleeds into warmth, laving the edge of the pain like the tongue of a cat. The shock of it makes Bill twist in his restraints, Leonard's sharp cry unmaking, reforming him like clay. He is trembling now, but not yet, Leonard manages, not yet, and Bill whimpers acknowledgement, though his thigh muscles jump with the strain.
And then Leonard's fingers are there at his lips, salt-slick and white with his release, and Bill opens to them, curls his tongue around their tips as Leonard's lips brush at his jaw. All right, Billy. You can come for me now, he whispers. The sound of it shatters like glass on the rocks of Bill's consciousness, and the next thing he knows he is coming like high tide in a storm.
Afterwards, Leonard is gentleness itself, laying Bill down like a child or an offering, rubbing the blood back into his wrists. The chafe-marks ring his forearms, angry and raised, but Leonard is ready with his ointment and his kisses, his there, now, Billy and oh, you did so well. Bill's mind feels as if it has been loosened along with his body, languid and drunken in the best of all possible ways. There won't be any hangover in the morning, not from this. There will only be Leonard, tangled around him like a vine, and the marks on his back to remind him that he is loved.
Leonard is still mostly dressed as he shifts on the bed, arranging Bill's limbs for comfort, kissing his hair. Even like this, Bill knows that this will not do, and he tugs at the front of the black shirt - "Off. Please."
Leonard smiles indulgently, sitting up to tug off his boots. From the corner of his eye, Bill watches long fingers on leather, the tension of the muscles in Leonard's arms as he pulls his feet free. His trousers are open, and he sheds them easily; pulls his shirt up and over his head. When he turns back to Bill, his black eyes are full fathoms five, warmth in their depths like the unquenchable embers of an inferno. Bill raises an arm with an effort, muscles like liquid protesting such strain so soon. Leonard moves easily, fitting his body to Bill's, and his hands are careful on the back he has washed and anointed. Sshh, he breathes, kissing Bill's cheek, his lips. Time for sleep. You did so well for me, Billy.
He is boneless, now; sinks into his aches like warm water. Leonard is holding him, shielding him, and like this, he surrenders.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 10:11 am (UTC)I think the fact that you know what I am Like is what makes it more embarrassing for you to read my porn, now.
And just for that, I am using Leonard Nimoy with kitten again.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 11:52 am (UTC)I think we know that the fact I know is what makes you embarassed and me FULL OF LOLS
See your fans love me. They want to give me a SPIN-OFF.
ps LOL AGAIN
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:05 pm (UTC)Yes. Yes, we do know. Especially when I have the gall to write sub-pov OH WELL.
I do not know that I approve of this word 'fans'. But yes, obviously our random comment chains are ENTERTAINING, but long has this been true. ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:10 pm (UTC)THAT WAS TOTALLY WHAT I WANTED TO SAY. It makes me go ha ha ha like muttley from wacky races/the bully out of the simpsons
I like using it. I imagine you as a 1950s radio presenter and I'm one of the other guys and it's like, HI JANPR0N FANS, is how I start my show.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:13 pm (UTC)I knew that was what you were thinking. 'BUT BOFF, YOU ARE UNREPENTANTLY BOSSY, WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE?'
...that is disturbing. Mostly because I envision us wearing bowties or something.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:14 pm (UTC)BUT BOFF, DON'T YOU REMEMBER --
What as opposed to blue stockings and the other Trappings of Feminism?
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:16 pm (UTC)I cannot imagine feminists on radio in 1950s. Only men with very white teeth and bowties.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:19 pm (UTC)I was not referring to the 1950s radio rather to the 1920s FEMMESLASH
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:20 pm (UTC)OH.
Why is there not Mitford femmeslash query?
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:23 pm (UTC)OH MY GOD. Do you know Rhian - hi rhian - and I once indulged in leaving each other increasingly ridiculous anonykinkmeme messages which culminated in her saying I'LL BE NANCY, YOU BE DECCA, EASILY THE BEST OFFER I WILL EVER GET IN MY LIFE.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:28 pm (UTC)omfg why did that not happen? WHYYYYYYY. UNF.
no subject
Date: 2010-01-17 12:44 pm (UTC)