[Fic] Bloom (KenTen)
Dec. 9th, 2012 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tj_dragonbladeTitle: Bloom
Author: TJ Dragonblade
Fandom: Saiyuki Gaiden
Pairing: Tentacled flower/Tenpou, KenTen. Scattered mention of prior GouTen.
Rated: 18+
Wordcount: 5230
Warnings: M/M. Xenokink in the form of botanical tentaclesex; includes a hint of bondage. Scattered language. Not remotely suitable for children.
Notes: Partially written for the prompt 'Tenpou and tentacle sex' at the oldMinekura Anonymous Kink Meme (has since been locked). If anyone ever saw this posted there, it was only half the fic--the 'end' was more a forceful cutting-off point to keep things down to just the tentacles. The scene kept running straight on into the KenTen porn and I decided not to stop it, even though it ended up taking almost four more years to finish. ^_^;; This, then, is the full 'extended' version.
Setting: Pre-Gaiden. Tenpou's office.
Summary: Straight-up double-shot of Tenpou-POV porn. \o/ Tenpou has a Very Vivid Dream before Kenren wakes him up.
Crossposted:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
saiyuki ~ saiyuki_gaiden
(On AO3)
~~~***~~~
"Curiouser and curiouser," Tenpou murmured, and decided that, on the basis of probability, he was not actually awake. He did have a habit of nodding off among his books, after all, and since the last thing he recalled before...well, this...was studying a scroll highly sought after in certain circles Down Below for its in-depth and illustrative approach to something colloquially referred to as 'Tentacle Porn'...
...Or had he been revisiting that volume about the rabbit-hole and the looking-glass, instead? There were all manner of peculiar goings-on in those stories, among them a shrinking protagonist and talking flora and what-not. Such things could certainly account for finding himself sprawled in the leaves of a ridiculously oversized blossom of some sort if he had indeed fallen asleep mid-stream, he supposed.
Of course, he might well have been reading from both texts at the same time; that first scroll, after all, could probably better account for why he was on his back and naked. And for what the plant was currently doing to him.
All in all, it was...quite interesting.
The leaf beneath him was almost warm to the touch and softly furred, not unlike velvet on this scale. A bell-shaped bloom large enough to swallow him whole drooped close above, possibly violet, or blue, or maybe black--it was difficult to determine its true color in the dimness of its shadow. The most striking aspect of the whole scenario, however, were the two decidedly phallic tentacles--Tenpou supposed they were the stamens of the bloom, in all likelihood, but 'tentacles' did evoke a much more accurate sense of them--which writhed from the apex of the dark petals. They were slender and pale yellow, slick and just a little bit sticky where they slid against him; they were smooth along their length but knobby at the tips, presumably with deposits of pollen awaiting release. There were various other tendrils as well, slimmer and greener than the stamens and tapering to blunt points instead of swelling into knobby heads. The way they slithered tentatively along his thighs and caressed before slipping away bespoke a fairly unmistakable intent.
"I can't begin to guess what might have prompted you to attempt to have sex with me," he remarked to the flower as its tendrils drew back again, "but neither can I think of any reasonable objection to letting you do so. Particularly as there is only the slimmest margin of probability that this is anything other than a dream, anyhow." Which meant that really, he was talking to himself, and he was oddly disappointed that the flower was not talking back. He was dreadfully curious to find out what his subconscious thought sex with a plant might be like, however, and the warm viscous glide of a headless tentacle coiling up around his thigh--a bit more firmly now that it had permission--was quite promising.
Besides, it had been entirely too long since Goujun, and he hadn't yet made up his mind what to do or not to do about Kenren. The man radiated like a lighthouse with lust for Tenpou, but he had just been booted from the Eastern army for crimes of unrestrained libido and apparently had sense enough to hesitate before potentially reinventing past mistakes in present company. Tenpou himself was likewise hesitant; after Goujun, he was cautious about entangling himself with another of his military peers without good reason.
If his brain was going to molest him with plants and supply him fantastical impossibilities like botanical sex during his celibacy, far be it from him to do anything less than surrender to his own curiosity.
There were smooth green tendrils coiled slickly about both legs by now, gentle in their touch but with strength enough to move him as they pleased, arranging him with knees drawn up and well apart. Several others moved in, slithering up the insides of his thighs and curling gently one after the other around his penis.
"Oh," he breathed at the first delicate touch, and was not surprised to note that he was already hard.
The stamen tentacles had drawn back after their initial exploration, but the other tendrils were all over him, slick against his chest and brushing gently at his throat, winding along one arm, firm around his other wrist and drawing it over his head to meet the first in a token measure of restraint.
Since Tenpou freely admitted to liking a hint of bondage with his sex from time to time, he made no real attempt to resist any of it.
The tendrils at his groin pulsed and moved in soft rhythm, sending waves of warm sensation up through his body; Tenpou arched and sighed, letting it wash over him and draw him down into pleasure.
It was easy to lose himself in it.
The flower was a very sensual lover, tendrils sliding against him and around him softly, touching him gently, everywhere, over and over, slowly working him into a hot and heady fervor that sent him reeling with every slick wet caress around his sex. Tentacles, he decided as another swell of pleasure crested and ebbed within him, were amazing and delightful and a Very Good Idea, to be sure. There were more of them as the winding and touching went on, slithering around his body, between him and the velvety leaf, wrapping him in slender lines of slick green warmth. They knew all his favorite ways to be touched--which only made sense, he supposed, as he'd imagined them into existence. They twined about his arms, binding them securely together where they stretched over his head; they whispered loosely against his throat and ghosted wetly across his peaked nipples, traced the contours of his abdomen, spread his legs just a little bit wider.
Readying him for penetration, he supposed hazily, not resisting in the least as a few of the tendrils--three, possibly four; they were quite difficult to count by feel alone--began tracing down behind his testicles, trailing over his perineum and circling his anus. One after the other they pressed their tips inside and withdrew, a light and teasing touch that left his thighs tense and shaking as the cycle repeated again and again.
When they paused after several long moments, Tenpou found himself unduly disappointed until one began to worm its way gently inside him, pressing further, going deeper. He could feel it, warm and wet, wriggling its way up into him, and it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. "Oh," he gasped, and his penis twitched violently in the soft grip of the tendrils coiled around it. "Oh--ohh--"
The stamen tentacles reared up and surged toward him, hovering, their demeanor--he supposed the term would still apply to a plant--somewhere between eager and intrigued as they dipped to touch him here and there. He sucked in a breath as one rubbed curiously over a pebbled nipple; slick, sticky fluid shimmered on his skin in its wake.
The tendril inside him wriggled about a bit more and then withdrew; seconds later, two tendrils were burrowing back into him, winding corkscrew-like around one another as they went, doing the most incredible things to his nerves and making his toes curl. He gasped and groaned, shivering as the tendrils twisted and writhed up inside him and slowly unwound and rewound themselves at leisure. A third tendril pushed inside to join them, wriggling violently as it went and inciting the other two to do the same, all three surging and slipping as they sought to push past one another in the tight confines of his body.
Tenpou's head fell back and he flexed his hips rhythmically, thrusting against the tendrils that curled about his penis and squirming into the exquisite unfamiliarity of being filled with warm wriggling plant flesh. It was remarkable, really, and incredibly erotic; the tendrils moved in ways that another man simply couldn't and left him shaking and gasping and desperate for it when they withdrew at long last.
They slid out of him, coiling wet and hot back up around his penis; he caught his breath on a whimper, jerking at his bound wrists by reflex, and the two stamen-tentacles swayed and dipped in close. One rubbed along the inside of his thigh and the other nudged down beneath to where the slender tendrils had left him slick and open and more than ready; Tenpou groaned and arched his back as its knobby, tapered head pressed slowly inside of him. It was gently relentless, slow but steady as it pushed its way fully in and he adjusted to it easily, squirming on the slick warm girth as it flexed inside him and began to withdraw. It slid out completely and drew back to let the other stamen move forward; the second entered him more quickly than the first but still relatively slow. It pressed deep and held, then pulled out only for the first to dip into him again.
Back and forth they went, alternating seamlessly between the two of them in a rhythm that increased very gradually, and Tenpou groaned as it went on and on. It was exquisitely torturous, this slow deliberate teasing pattern, and he writhed against the flower's restraint, squirming, hips moving and seeking helplessly. The tentacles taking turns slithering inside him paid no heed, and the tendrils that held his legs open merely pulled him the tiniest bit wider, others still rubbing slick wet caresses all over his erection. He tossed his head, panting, licking wetly at the tendrils coiled around his arms in distraction while his body writhed. The slick-sticky surface tasted sweet and flavorless, and it made his head spin all the worse.
Abruptly, the rhythm of the penetration changed; there was a pause after the last withdrawal and then, lightning fast, the next stamen plunged into him as deeply as possible and began to wriggle. It undulated within him, rippling hard against his prostate, and Tenpou's vision went white. The knobby texture of the head heightened the sensation tenfold and he choked out one gasping cry after another as the tentacle lashed about inside him. It drew back and pressed forward, still wriggling, and then again, not leaving his body completely as it had to begin with but gliding slickly back and forth within him. Faster and faster it moved, in and out and every which-way as it went, and Tenpou writhed at the sensations, helpless, pleasure flaring deep in his gut and coursing madly through his veins. The tentacle was fucking into him in earnest now, swift and hard and indescribably good; he could feel the knobby head of it growing tighter and tighter within him, presumably swelling toward its release as it drove him mercilessly on toward his own.
I'll have an ass full of pollen--
The thought sparked randomly in the back of his overloaded mind while the stamen pistoned frantically within him and the tendrils wound continuously around his penis and stroked delicately just beneath his slit. Tenpou threw his head back between his bound arms, panting raggedly in broken moans, hips straining and moving all on their own as he felt climax rising hot in the pit of his belly. If the tendrils would just move a bit more conventionally, jerk him properly, he'd have been there already, but they kept on with their not-quite-enough and there were few things more maddening than being right there on the tip of the swell without being let to fall over. Goujun had been a master at keeping him suspended on the crest, which was how he knew that even though it was torture, when it finally did break and crash down over him, release would be all the more intense for it.
And finally, finally, the swollen head plunged deep within him and burst, pulsing like mad as it undulated in its death throes, battering his prostate in the most beautiful way and sending him over the edge at last. He stiffened and gasped, groaned low and heartfelt as his pleasure convulsed, exploded, and long stripes of semen jetted over his belly, spattered the tendrils wound around him. The spent tentacle shuddered and slid wetly out of him, still pulsing in perfect time with his own release.
The other stamen surged forward and stabbed fiercely back inside as the first fell away, slithered into him swift and forceful and swollen nearly to its limit. It dragged his waning climax straight back up to the crest and sent him crashing down again; it was unbearably sweet where it burrowed savagely into his spasming body and he cried out, thrashing in his bonds as it swelled and burst deep inside him--
The sudden sense of something--or someone, rather--besides the flower looming over him jerked his short-circuiting awareness abruptly sideways, left him floundering for an instant between the tangled-in-vines-in-the-throes-of-climax of his dream and the sharp reality of slumping forward in his chair, head pillowed on his folded arms atop his desk.
"You're sleeping heavy today, Gensui."
Tenpou blinked and came awake in a rush, wildly aroused and painfully hard; his plant-induced orgasm had very apparently not happened in the waking world.
Kenren was straightening up, stepping away now that he'd brought his C.O. back from slumberland; he leaned back to rest against the arm of the couch and slouched into his usual lazy posture, a study in careless grace and easy sensuality. He pulled a long drag off his cigarette in preparation for speaking again and Tenpou shivered, heat sparking madly through his already-simmering blood. Kenren was radiating the usual lust and desire, strong as ever; he could practically smell it on the man and heavens but he was far too worked up for such rational thought.
To hell with his prior sense of caution.
He re-settled his glasses properly on his face and spoke before Kenren had the chance to start in on whatever business or lack thereof had brought him here. "Taishou."
"Eh?"
"I find that I'm quite desperately in need of a 'good fuck', as they say, and--"
Kenren choked on his cigarette. "What?"
"A good fuck, Taishou," Tenpou repeated, standing and stepping out from behind the desk, fingers moving to unbutton his pants. "If you'd be so kind?"
To his credit, Kenren recovered quickly. "If you insist, Sir," he drawled, grin turning salacious as he took the cigarette from his mouth. He stubbed it out in the frog on the corner of the desk and came forward, pushing Tenpou's hands out of the way and pulling his pants open for him. "You're sure about this?"
The grin was all swaggering confidence, but the tone was that of a child asking Is it really okay? when told he could raid the cookie jar before dinner; Tenpou would have found it charming, probably, had he not been so very close to the edge. He shuddered at the brush of Kenren's thumb below his navel and grabbed the general's hand, directing it less than subtly into his open pants.
"I assure you, Taishou, you'll suffer no ohh--" His words trembled and collapsed into a moan as Kenren's fingers slid down along the length of his shaft to pull him free, and it took all he had to finish the sentence as Kenren's other arm snaked around behind him. "--no reprimands or retributions for--for--nnnh--" He failed spectacularly, jerking in Kenren's embrace and clutching at the shoulder of Kenren's uniform as those fingertips circled around the head and brushed back to the base.
"Must've been having quite the dream, there, Gensui," Kenren murmured, lips next to his ear, and then those fingertips were gone. Kenren drew back just enough to pull his glove off with his teeth and cast it aside, and then his bare hand was wrapped around Tenpou so quickly there had been no time to protest the lack of touch. "Are you sure you can last long enough to get me inside you?" His hand slid in smooth rhythm from base to tip and back again, over and over.
"Perhaps--ah! Perhaps not," Tenpou gasped, shaking against Kenren as the heady rush of orgasm swelled and rose and bore him up to the precipice in no time at all. Kenren's hand was hot and dry and swift, such a marked contrast to the wet languid slither of the tentacles his mind had conjured--the thought pushed him over the edge and he groaned, head falling back as he shuddered and jerked through his climax.
"I knew you'd be gorgeous when you come," Kenren said a beat or two later, an appreciative leer in his voice. "Guess I should've taken it slower, though--we'll have to save that fuck for next time, eh?" His tone was one part rueful uncertainty and two parts hope that a 'next time' was actually in the cards.
"Unh," Tenpou managed, head dropping forward against Kenren's shoulder while his pulse came back down to normal. He was still shaky, even with Kenren's arm about him, and yet...he did not feel entirely satisfied. It had happened blindingly fast, and it had been quite good, yes, but it was not at all what he had spent so many idle evenings imagining sex with Kenren could be like. He was not inclined to wait until 'next time' to have a go at exchanging fantasy for reality, either.
"I'm not done with you just yet, Taishou," he murmured, reaching a hand up to grasp the back of Kenren's neck, and then he kissed him. He pressed himself against Kenren and opened his mouth, let Kenren take over, ground against him insistently. His general was remarkably hard; that comment about saving it for next time had been commendably chivalrous and Tenpou broke the kiss to tell him so.
"Uh," Kenren replied, and Tenpou was delighted with the lusty glaze that lit his general's eyes in the wake of that kiss. "Still mean it, too--you don't...have to..."
The words trailed off as Tenpou gave a quick wriggle of his hips that dropped his open pants down to his knees. "But I want to," he murmured, turning away from Kenren and bending over the end of the desk, labcoat scrunched haphazardly up past his hips. He caught Kenren's hand--the one still messy from his orgasm a moment ago--and directed it behind him, down, in--
"Oh", he managed as Kenren took the hint and took over, sticky-slick fingers pushing carefully inside him and crooking deliberately against his prostate. "Oh--ahnn--" His eyes rolled back and his spent penis twitched an over-stimulated protest as sharp honeyed warmth speared abruptly through him. "Ahh--T-Taishou--" He warbled into a keening moan as Kenren deftly pressed and crooked and stroked in tiny motions right on the bulls-eye, stealing his breath and whatever strength remained in his knees and making him shake. One hand scrabbled desperately over the edge of his desk and he jerked open a drawer, rummaging its cluttered and eclectic contents by feel while Kenren made vivid brightness spark and flare behind his eyes. Semen was only effective as a lubricant until it dried, after all, at which point it tended to become painfully counterproductive; there ought to be a bottle of Astro-glide left in among all the collected odds and ends if he could just--ahh--no, that was the little jade Buddha he'd brought back from his last excursion Down Below. He swept it carefully aside and kept questing through the drawer, past the stapler and the roll of tape, his official seal, a single stick of dynamite, the obnoxiously bright orange marker with the Western characters HI-LITER printed along the barrel, the almost-empty water pistol and the partially-disassembled clockwork monkey with the cymbals, several elastic hair ties, various partially-used matchbooks and the odd lighter, half a pair of red silk stockings, the little jar of dried belladonna blossoms (he'd wondered where that had disappeared to), a woven finger-trap puzzle, a stick of sealing wax, the strands of deep-sea pearls in their little silk pouch that Goujun had gifted to him ages and ages ago (what in heaven's name they were doing here, he didn't know, but made a mental note to retrieve them later), a--there! His fingers found the little plastic bottle and he jerked it free of the clutter, leaving the drawer open.
"If you please, Taishou," he gasped, handing off the bottle to Kenren behind him.
"...Do I want to know why you've got lube in your desk?" Kenren's fingers paused and then withdrew altogether, which left Tenpou shuddering but able to draw a full breath at last.
"I like to have any foreseeable contingency covered, no matter how unlikely. Surely you don't find this cause for complaint?" He arched a mild Look back over his shoulder.
"No, Sir, absolutely not," Kenren drawled, unbuckling his uniform coat and opening his pants one-handed before dribbling proper lube over his first two fingers and sliding them easily back into Tenpou.
"Oh--" Tenpou dropped his forehead to his arm, knocking his glasses askew, and arched into the touch shamelessly. "Hurry," he gasped, undulating against Kenren's hand while the general resumed the attack on his prostate. He was still in no shape to get hard again, but his penis twitched limply all the same, semen dribbling weakly over his testicles to drip into his downed trousers. "Oh--Kenren--ahh--" He shivered, gasping out wordless groans meant to urge Kenren on, more than ready to proceed. No matter what delightful things they were currently doing to him, the inherent boniness of fingers in the ass was never quite so comfortable as thick velvet-hard flesh.
Kenren pulled out to add more lube, and then more again before he moved to slick himself; Tenpou was shivering with the waiting for it by the time the blunt, slick head finally pushed between his cheeks. It slid in easily, one long swift thrust to the hilt, and Tenpou cried out with the dizzying blissful shock of it. Kenren pressed flush up against his ass, tense but still, and Tenpou clenched around him, willing him to move.
"Again," he ordered, breathless, and Kenren slid back and shoved forward obediently.
"Ahn! Again!"
Tenpou's pants had fallen down around his ankles by now; he jerked one foot free of both slipper and trousers and spread his legs as wide as possible. The jolt when Kenren slammed home again was delicious and he gasped out another cry, arching into it as his head came up and back and his glasses tumbled off completely. Kenren fell over top of him, arms braced on either side and the fingers of one hand laced through his from the back, mouth landing wet and open just below his ear. "So good," Kenren panted, moving out-IN, out-IN with slow, heavy strokes. "Ungh--god--Tenpou--Sir--" His tongue licked out, hot and wet up the rim of Tenpou's ear and Tenpou whimpered piteously.
"Faster," he managed, free hand gripping the edge of the desk, legs as firmly braced as he could make them. "For the love of all you hold dear, Kenren, do me like you mean it."
"Yes, Sir," Kenren gasped, the leer clearly audible regardless, and promptly began pounding into him in earnest.
Tenpou's focus narrowed in on the feel of it, of Kenren moving swift and strong inside him; he gasped, moaned, bit his lip, clung to the desk as Kenren thrust into him again and again. It had been absolutely ages since he'd had it hard and fast like this in the wake of orgasm, and it was easy to forget how amazingly all-consumingly good it felt.
Here was a feeling worthy of Heaven, he thought, dizzy with the intensity of it; here was something well worth the tedium of eternity.
His penis was stiffening up nicely, now, encouraged by all the attention his prostate was getting; when Kenren's hands shifted to his hips he had half a second's hope that one of those hands would move a little more front-and-center, but his general merely gripped him firmly by the hips and straightened up, changing position for better control. It left Tenpou facedown on the desk, one hand still clenched on the edge and the other fisted against his open mouth, shoulders hunched, eyes closed and small sounds spilling out of his throat as Kenren eased up, slowed down, and started moving with a little more finesse.
And oh, but that was a beautiful thing, however much he'd needed that raw primal pummeling straight out of the gate.
"Make't last, oughta make it last," Kenren was mumbling, ragged under his breath as he thrust slickly back into Tenpou time and again.
Tenpou tried to catch his breath and arched his back, pressing against Kenren as Kenren pushed repeatedly into him, sure and steady and oh so very good. "Oh," he gasped, "oh, I must say, Taishou, you certainly--ahn--certainly do live up to your reputation--"
Kenren's grin was clearly audible in his suitably breathless reply. "Damn right I do. Sir."
Tenpou forgave him his cheek, because it was well-founded and entirely deserved, and lost himself in the beauty of it.
He sank in the motion and sensation and the primal cadence of their coupling for a long moment, his head spinning pleasantly; Kenren made his body sing, made him feel bright and alive and immediate, made him feel real, and it could hardly be more perfect. Kenren moved in a smooth, precise rhythm that drew tight trembling heat from every pore and pooled it deep in the pit of Tenpou's belly, in and out and over and over again; it was exquisite, the repetitive push and glide, the circular little grind he kept executing while buried deep up in Tenpou, so good, so good--like all the best things in the world condensed into a fleeting, intimate touch. Tenpou's breath hitched as Kenren did it again, because oh, it felt--it felt--it almost reminded him of Goujun, of the way that Goujun moved--
Kenren pulled all the way out and thrust deep again, hard, and Tenpou's meandering thoughts exploded, rained down in glittering bits like so many fireworks.
The sound that came out of his mouth was garbled and incoherent but whole-hearted approval.
Kenren took that for the encouragement it clearly was and did it again, and again and again and again, brutal and merciless and utterly beautiful. Tenpou choked out one gasping cry after another, clinging to the desk as control spun away and everything inside of him began gathering for a wild rush to the finish. Pleasure surged hot and tight through his core, raced along every nerve ending and back, made him hyper-aware of every touch--Kenren's hands sweaty on his hips, slipping minutely but gripping securely all the same; the zipper of Kenren's fly biting into the top of his thighs, the edge of the desk pressing into his stomach, the slight movement of air against his testicles as they swung helplessly with each swift thrust. He would swear to feeling every minute contour of Kenren's penis sliding forcefully within him in exquisite detail and he thought perhaps he might die if this went on too terribly much longer; his own penis was hard and ready, bumping up against the side of the desk which was not even close to enough of anything to bring him off.
Dizzy, reeling, breathless, he opened his mouth. "Touch me," he ordered, or begged--hardly a difference between the two by now, as it was.
Kenren bent over him, one arm wrapping around his waist to haul him just slightly off the desk; the other hand brushed lightly up the underside of his penis while Kenren laid himself over Tenpou's back and Tenpou jerked in his embrace.
"So hard," Kenren panted, breath hot and humid behind Tenpou's ear. "Damn, you just came, but you're so hard...you're that hot for me?" His fingers brushed the length of it again, teasing.
Tenpou tensed up, shaking, both hands gripping either edge of the desk for dear life as Kenren closed a hand around him and pulled gently.
And kept pumping into him hard and fast from behind.
Some small little corner of Tenpou's mind took a second out to be impressed that Kenren had enough mental focus even now to move his hand at complete odds with the speed of his hips. Remarkable, really, and deliciously frustrating; he squirmed, unable to help himself, and succeeded only in upsetting the steady rhythm from both sides.
"Hold still," Kenren gasped, squeezing firmly with the hand that had found its way back to Tenpou's hip, and Tenpou made a desperate, pitiful noise in the back of his throat.
Kenren teased a moment longer, stroking long and slow with his hand and pounding fiercely with his hips, before relenting; he finally synched the two rhythms together and it took no time at all from that point for Tenpou to lose it. The edge loomed up before him and he leaned out over it desperate and eager, suspended by the rising heat, the slick friction of Kenren working his body; it swelled, coalesced and intensified and overflowed, and Tenpou fell, flung himself over and down into it. He cried out high and sharp as climax tore through him at last, a searing tide of pleasure that surged along every nerve ending and lit up his brain and body like a super-nova, wrung him dry in sweet clenching spasms that shook him with their intensity and--
And Kenren fucked him straight through it, hard and unrelenting, pushing him well past the point where 'enough' became 'too much' and Tenpou clawed helpessly at the desk, blind and breathless, desperate to make it stop, desperate for more, more, MORE--
Kenren's rhythm heightened, faltered, stuttered out of control. "Oh, fuck," he gasped, hands convulsing on Tenpou's hips, and shoved in deep with a high bitten-off moan, finishing in spastic little jerks that pushed him impossibly deeper and made Tenpou's eyes water with the overload of sensation.
"Guh," Kenren said, with one last jerk, and collapsed on top of Tenpou, who groaned. He felt Kenren softening, sliding slowly out of him; he felt Kenren's semen following suit, leaking warm and wet onto his thigh and he shivered, completely sated, just trying to catch his breath.
The seconds stretched into a minute, then beyond, and the office was silent but for their ragged panting and the tick-tick-ticking of a clock somewhere amidst all the clutter.
"...Fuck me," Kenren managed at last, heartfelt and very nearly reverent as he shifted off of Tenpou and slid heavily to the floor, ending up on his ass beside Tenpou's feet.
Tenpou didn't move from his sprawl across the desk, spent and boneless and feeling delightfully debauched, and would have agreed that sounded like a fine idea for next time if only he could find his voice.
=====
Started: 12/22/08
Anon half posted: 02/08/09
Full draft: 11/7/12
Posted (complete): 12/9/12
Author: TJ Dragonblade
Fandom: Saiyuki Gaiden
Pairing: Tentacled flower/Tenpou, KenTen. Scattered mention of prior GouTen.
Rated: 18+
Wordcount: 5230
Warnings: M/M. Xenokink in the form of botanical tentaclesex; includes a hint of bondage. Scattered language. Not remotely suitable for children.
Notes: Partially written for the prompt 'Tenpou and tentacle sex' at the old
Setting: Pre-Gaiden. Tenpou's office.
Summary: Straight-up double-shot of Tenpou-POV porn. \o/ Tenpou has a Very Vivid Dream before Kenren wakes him up.
Crossposted:
saiyuki ~ saiyuki_gaiden(On AO3)
~~~***~~~
"Curiouser and curiouser," Tenpou murmured, and decided that, on the basis of probability, he was not actually awake. He did have a habit of nodding off among his books, after all, and since the last thing he recalled before...well, this...was studying a scroll highly sought after in certain circles Down Below for its in-depth and illustrative approach to something colloquially referred to as 'Tentacle Porn'...
...Or had he been revisiting that volume about the rabbit-hole and the looking-glass, instead? There were all manner of peculiar goings-on in those stories, among them a shrinking protagonist and talking flora and what-not. Such things could certainly account for finding himself sprawled in the leaves of a ridiculously oversized blossom of some sort if he had indeed fallen asleep mid-stream, he supposed.
Of course, he might well have been reading from both texts at the same time; that first scroll, after all, could probably better account for why he was on his back and naked. And for what the plant was currently doing to him.
All in all, it was...quite interesting.
The leaf beneath him was almost warm to the touch and softly furred, not unlike velvet on this scale. A bell-shaped bloom large enough to swallow him whole drooped close above, possibly violet, or blue, or maybe black--it was difficult to determine its true color in the dimness of its shadow. The most striking aspect of the whole scenario, however, were the two decidedly phallic tentacles--Tenpou supposed they were the stamens of the bloom, in all likelihood, but 'tentacles' did evoke a much more accurate sense of them--which writhed from the apex of the dark petals. They were slender and pale yellow, slick and just a little bit sticky where they slid against him; they were smooth along their length but knobby at the tips, presumably with deposits of pollen awaiting release. There were various other tendrils as well, slimmer and greener than the stamens and tapering to blunt points instead of swelling into knobby heads. The way they slithered tentatively along his thighs and caressed before slipping away bespoke a fairly unmistakable intent.
"I can't begin to guess what might have prompted you to attempt to have sex with me," he remarked to the flower as its tendrils drew back again, "but neither can I think of any reasonable objection to letting you do so. Particularly as there is only the slimmest margin of probability that this is anything other than a dream, anyhow." Which meant that really, he was talking to himself, and he was oddly disappointed that the flower was not talking back. He was dreadfully curious to find out what his subconscious thought sex with a plant might be like, however, and the warm viscous glide of a headless tentacle coiling up around his thigh--a bit more firmly now that it had permission--was quite promising.
Besides, it had been entirely too long since Goujun, and he hadn't yet made up his mind what to do or not to do about Kenren. The man radiated like a lighthouse with lust for Tenpou, but he had just been booted from the Eastern army for crimes of unrestrained libido and apparently had sense enough to hesitate before potentially reinventing past mistakes in present company. Tenpou himself was likewise hesitant; after Goujun, he was cautious about entangling himself with another of his military peers without good reason.
If his brain was going to molest him with plants and supply him fantastical impossibilities like botanical sex during his celibacy, far be it from him to do anything less than surrender to his own curiosity.
There were smooth green tendrils coiled slickly about both legs by now, gentle in their touch but with strength enough to move him as they pleased, arranging him with knees drawn up and well apart. Several others moved in, slithering up the insides of his thighs and curling gently one after the other around his penis.
"Oh," he breathed at the first delicate touch, and was not surprised to note that he was already hard.
The stamen tentacles had drawn back after their initial exploration, but the other tendrils were all over him, slick against his chest and brushing gently at his throat, winding along one arm, firm around his other wrist and drawing it over his head to meet the first in a token measure of restraint.
Since Tenpou freely admitted to liking a hint of bondage with his sex from time to time, he made no real attempt to resist any of it.
The tendrils at his groin pulsed and moved in soft rhythm, sending waves of warm sensation up through his body; Tenpou arched and sighed, letting it wash over him and draw him down into pleasure.
It was easy to lose himself in it.
The flower was a very sensual lover, tendrils sliding against him and around him softly, touching him gently, everywhere, over and over, slowly working him into a hot and heady fervor that sent him reeling with every slick wet caress around his sex. Tentacles, he decided as another swell of pleasure crested and ebbed within him, were amazing and delightful and a Very Good Idea, to be sure. There were more of them as the winding and touching went on, slithering around his body, between him and the velvety leaf, wrapping him in slender lines of slick green warmth. They knew all his favorite ways to be touched--which only made sense, he supposed, as he'd imagined them into existence. They twined about his arms, binding them securely together where they stretched over his head; they whispered loosely against his throat and ghosted wetly across his peaked nipples, traced the contours of his abdomen, spread his legs just a little bit wider.
Readying him for penetration, he supposed hazily, not resisting in the least as a few of the tendrils--three, possibly four; they were quite difficult to count by feel alone--began tracing down behind his testicles, trailing over his perineum and circling his anus. One after the other they pressed their tips inside and withdrew, a light and teasing touch that left his thighs tense and shaking as the cycle repeated again and again.
When they paused after several long moments, Tenpou found himself unduly disappointed until one began to worm its way gently inside him, pressing further, going deeper. He could feel it, warm and wet, wriggling its way up into him, and it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. "Oh," he gasped, and his penis twitched violently in the soft grip of the tendrils coiled around it. "Oh--ohh--"
The stamen tentacles reared up and surged toward him, hovering, their demeanor--he supposed the term would still apply to a plant--somewhere between eager and intrigued as they dipped to touch him here and there. He sucked in a breath as one rubbed curiously over a pebbled nipple; slick, sticky fluid shimmered on his skin in its wake.
The tendril inside him wriggled about a bit more and then withdrew; seconds later, two tendrils were burrowing back into him, winding corkscrew-like around one another as they went, doing the most incredible things to his nerves and making his toes curl. He gasped and groaned, shivering as the tendrils twisted and writhed up inside him and slowly unwound and rewound themselves at leisure. A third tendril pushed inside to join them, wriggling violently as it went and inciting the other two to do the same, all three surging and slipping as they sought to push past one another in the tight confines of his body.
Tenpou's head fell back and he flexed his hips rhythmically, thrusting against the tendrils that curled about his penis and squirming into the exquisite unfamiliarity of being filled with warm wriggling plant flesh. It was remarkable, really, and incredibly erotic; the tendrils moved in ways that another man simply couldn't and left him shaking and gasping and desperate for it when they withdrew at long last.
They slid out of him, coiling wet and hot back up around his penis; he caught his breath on a whimper, jerking at his bound wrists by reflex, and the two stamen-tentacles swayed and dipped in close. One rubbed along the inside of his thigh and the other nudged down beneath to where the slender tendrils had left him slick and open and more than ready; Tenpou groaned and arched his back as its knobby, tapered head pressed slowly inside of him. It was gently relentless, slow but steady as it pushed its way fully in and he adjusted to it easily, squirming on the slick warm girth as it flexed inside him and began to withdraw. It slid out completely and drew back to let the other stamen move forward; the second entered him more quickly than the first but still relatively slow. It pressed deep and held, then pulled out only for the first to dip into him again.
Back and forth they went, alternating seamlessly between the two of them in a rhythm that increased very gradually, and Tenpou groaned as it went on and on. It was exquisitely torturous, this slow deliberate teasing pattern, and he writhed against the flower's restraint, squirming, hips moving and seeking helplessly. The tentacles taking turns slithering inside him paid no heed, and the tendrils that held his legs open merely pulled him the tiniest bit wider, others still rubbing slick wet caresses all over his erection. He tossed his head, panting, licking wetly at the tendrils coiled around his arms in distraction while his body writhed. The slick-sticky surface tasted sweet and flavorless, and it made his head spin all the worse.
Abruptly, the rhythm of the penetration changed; there was a pause after the last withdrawal and then, lightning fast, the next stamen plunged into him as deeply as possible and began to wriggle. It undulated within him, rippling hard against his prostate, and Tenpou's vision went white. The knobby texture of the head heightened the sensation tenfold and he choked out one gasping cry after another as the tentacle lashed about inside him. It drew back and pressed forward, still wriggling, and then again, not leaving his body completely as it had to begin with but gliding slickly back and forth within him. Faster and faster it moved, in and out and every which-way as it went, and Tenpou writhed at the sensations, helpless, pleasure flaring deep in his gut and coursing madly through his veins. The tentacle was fucking into him in earnest now, swift and hard and indescribably good; he could feel the knobby head of it growing tighter and tighter within him, presumably swelling toward its release as it drove him mercilessly on toward his own.
I'll have an ass full of pollen--
The thought sparked randomly in the back of his overloaded mind while the stamen pistoned frantically within him and the tendrils wound continuously around his penis and stroked delicately just beneath his slit. Tenpou threw his head back between his bound arms, panting raggedly in broken moans, hips straining and moving all on their own as he felt climax rising hot in the pit of his belly. If the tendrils would just move a bit more conventionally, jerk him properly, he'd have been there already, but they kept on with their not-quite-enough and there were few things more maddening than being right there on the tip of the swell without being let to fall over. Goujun had been a master at keeping him suspended on the crest, which was how he knew that even though it was torture, when it finally did break and crash down over him, release would be all the more intense for it.
And finally, finally, the swollen head plunged deep within him and burst, pulsing like mad as it undulated in its death throes, battering his prostate in the most beautiful way and sending him over the edge at last. He stiffened and gasped, groaned low and heartfelt as his pleasure convulsed, exploded, and long stripes of semen jetted over his belly, spattered the tendrils wound around him. The spent tentacle shuddered and slid wetly out of him, still pulsing in perfect time with his own release.
The other stamen surged forward and stabbed fiercely back inside as the first fell away, slithered into him swift and forceful and swollen nearly to its limit. It dragged his waning climax straight back up to the crest and sent him crashing down again; it was unbearably sweet where it burrowed savagely into his spasming body and he cried out, thrashing in his bonds as it swelled and burst deep inside him--
The sudden sense of something--or someone, rather--besides the flower looming over him jerked his short-circuiting awareness abruptly sideways, left him floundering for an instant between the tangled-in-vines-in-the-throes-of-climax of his dream and the sharp reality of slumping forward in his chair, head pillowed on his folded arms atop his desk.
"You're sleeping heavy today, Gensui."
Tenpou blinked and came awake in a rush, wildly aroused and painfully hard; his plant-induced orgasm had very apparently not happened in the waking world.
Kenren was straightening up, stepping away now that he'd brought his C.O. back from slumberland; he leaned back to rest against the arm of the couch and slouched into his usual lazy posture, a study in careless grace and easy sensuality. He pulled a long drag off his cigarette in preparation for speaking again and Tenpou shivered, heat sparking madly through his already-simmering blood. Kenren was radiating the usual lust and desire, strong as ever; he could practically smell it on the man and heavens but he was far too worked up for such rational thought.
To hell with his prior sense of caution.
He re-settled his glasses properly on his face and spoke before Kenren had the chance to start in on whatever business or lack thereof had brought him here. "Taishou."
"Eh?"
"I find that I'm quite desperately in need of a 'good fuck', as they say, and--"
Kenren choked on his cigarette. "What?"
"A good fuck, Taishou," Tenpou repeated, standing and stepping out from behind the desk, fingers moving to unbutton his pants. "If you'd be so kind?"
To his credit, Kenren recovered quickly. "If you insist, Sir," he drawled, grin turning salacious as he took the cigarette from his mouth. He stubbed it out in the frog on the corner of the desk and came forward, pushing Tenpou's hands out of the way and pulling his pants open for him. "You're sure about this?"
The grin was all swaggering confidence, but the tone was that of a child asking Is it really okay? when told he could raid the cookie jar before dinner; Tenpou would have found it charming, probably, had he not been so very close to the edge. He shuddered at the brush of Kenren's thumb below his navel and grabbed the general's hand, directing it less than subtly into his open pants.
"I assure you, Taishou, you'll suffer no ohh--" His words trembled and collapsed into a moan as Kenren's fingers slid down along the length of his shaft to pull him free, and it took all he had to finish the sentence as Kenren's other arm snaked around behind him. "--no reprimands or retributions for--for--nnnh--" He failed spectacularly, jerking in Kenren's embrace and clutching at the shoulder of Kenren's uniform as those fingertips circled around the head and brushed back to the base.
"Must've been having quite the dream, there, Gensui," Kenren murmured, lips next to his ear, and then those fingertips were gone. Kenren drew back just enough to pull his glove off with his teeth and cast it aside, and then his bare hand was wrapped around Tenpou so quickly there had been no time to protest the lack of touch. "Are you sure you can last long enough to get me inside you?" His hand slid in smooth rhythm from base to tip and back again, over and over.
"Perhaps--ah! Perhaps not," Tenpou gasped, shaking against Kenren as the heady rush of orgasm swelled and rose and bore him up to the precipice in no time at all. Kenren's hand was hot and dry and swift, such a marked contrast to the wet languid slither of the tentacles his mind had conjured--the thought pushed him over the edge and he groaned, head falling back as he shuddered and jerked through his climax.
"I knew you'd be gorgeous when you come," Kenren said a beat or two later, an appreciative leer in his voice. "Guess I should've taken it slower, though--we'll have to save that fuck for next time, eh?" His tone was one part rueful uncertainty and two parts hope that a 'next time' was actually in the cards.
"Unh," Tenpou managed, head dropping forward against Kenren's shoulder while his pulse came back down to normal. He was still shaky, even with Kenren's arm about him, and yet...he did not feel entirely satisfied. It had happened blindingly fast, and it had been quite good, yes, but it was not at all what he had spent so many idle evenings imagining sex with Kenren could be like. He was not inclined to wait until 'next time' to have a go at exchanging fantasy for reality, either.
"I'm not done with you just yet, Taishou," he murmured, reaching a hand up to grasp the back of Kenren's neck, and then he kissed him. He pressed himself against Kenren and opened his mouth, let Kenren take over, ground against him insistently. His general was remarkably hard; that comment about saving it for next time had been commendably chivalrous and Tenpou broke the kiss to tell him so.
"Uh," Kenren replied, and Tenpou was delighted with the lusty glaze that lit his general's eyes in the wake of that kiss. "Still mean it, too--you don't...have to..."
The words trailed off as Tenpou gave a quick wriggle of his hips that dropped his open pants down to his knees. "But I want to," he murmured, turning away from Kenren and bending over the end of the desk, labcoat scrunched haphazardly up past his hips. He caught Kenren's hand--the one still messy from his orgasm a moment ago--and directed it behind him, down, in--
"Oh", he managed as Kenren took the hint and took over, sticky-slick fingers pushing carefully inside him and crooking deliberately against his prostate. "Oh--ahnn--" His eyes rolled back and his spent penis twitched an over-stimulated protest as sharp honeyed warmth speared abruptly through him. "Ahh--T-Taishou--" He warbled into a keening moan as Kenren deftly pressed and crooked and stroked in tiny motions right on the bulls-eye, stealing his breath and whatever strength remained in his knees and making him shake. One hand scrabbled desperately over the edge of his desk and he jerked open a drawer, rummaging its cluttered and eclectic contents by feel while Kenren made vivid brightness spark and flare behind his eyes. Semen was only effective as a lubricant until it dried, after all, at which point it tended to become painfully counterproductive; there ought to be a bottle of Astro-glide left in among all the collected odds and ends if he could just--ahh--no, that was the little jade Buddha he'd brought back from his last excursion Down Below. He swept it carefully aside and kept questing through the drawer, past the stapler and the roll of tape, his official seal, a single stick of dynamite, the obnoxiously bright orange marker with the Western characters HI-LITER printed along the barrel, the almost-empty water pistol and the partially-disassembled clockwork monkey with the cymbals, several elastic hair ties, various partially-used matchbooks and the odd lighter, half a pair of red silk stockings, the little jar of dried belladonna blossoms (he'd wondered where that had disappeared to), a woven finger-trap puzzle, a stick of sealing wax, the strands of deep-sea pearls in their little silk pouch that Goujun had gifted to him ages and ages ago (what in heaven's name they were doing here, he didn't know, but made a mental note to retrieve them later), a--there! His fingers found the little plastic bottle and he jerked it free of the clutter, leaving the drawer open.
"If you please, Taishou," he gasped, handing off the bottle to Kenren behind him.
"...Do I want to know why you've got lube in your desk?" Kenren's fingers paused and then withdrew altogether, which left Tenpou shuddering but able to draw a full breath at last.
"I like to have any foreseeable contingency covered, no matter how unlikely. Surely you don't find this cause for complaint?" He arched a mild Look back over his shoulder.
"No, Sir, absolutely not," Kenren drawled, unbuckling his uniform coat and opening his pants one-handed before dribbling proper lube over his first two fingers and sliding them easily back into Tenpou.
"Oh--" Tenpou dropped his forehead to his arm, knocking his glasses askew, and arched into the touch shamelessly. "Hurry," he gasped, undulating against Kenren's hand while the general resumed the attack on his prostate. He was still in no shape to get hard again, but his penis twitched limply all the same, semen dribbling weakly over his testicles to drip into his downed trousers. "Oh--Kenren--ahh--" He shivered, gasping out wordless groans meant to urge Kenren on, more than ready to proceed. No matter what delightful things they were currently doing to him, the inherent boniness of fingers in the ass was never quite so comfortable as thick velvet-hard flesh.
Kenren pulled out to add more lube, and then more again before he moved to slick himself; Tenpou was shivering with the waiting for it by the time the blunt, slick head finally pushed between his cheeks. It slid in easily, one long swift thrust to the hilt, and Tenpou cried out with the dizzying blissful shock of it. Kenren pressed flush up against his ass, tense but still, and Tenpou clenched around him, willing him to move.
"Again," he ordered, breathless, and Kenren slid back and shoved forward obediently.
"Ahn! Again!"
Tenpou's pants had fallen down around his ankles by now; he jerked one foot free of both slipper and trousers and spread his legs as wide as possible. The jolt when Kenren slammed home again was delicious and he gasped out another cry, arching into it as his head came up and back and his glasses tumbled off completely. Kenren fell over top of him, arms braced on either side and the fingers of one hand laced through his from the back, mouth landing wet and open just below his ear. "So good," Kenren panted, moving out-IN, out-IN with slow, heavy strokes. "Ungh--god--Tenpou--Sir--" His tongue licked out, hot and wet up the rim of Tenpou's ear and Tenpou whimpered piteously.
"Faster," he managed, free hand gripping the edge of the desk, legs as firmly braced as he could make them. "For the love of all you hold dear, Kenren, do me like you mean it."
"Yes, Sir," Kenren gasped, the leer clearly audible regardless, and promptly began pounding into him in earnest.
Tenpou's focus narrowed in on the feel of it, of Kenren moving swift and strong inside him; he gasped, moaned, bit his lip, clung to the desk as Kenren thrust into him again and again. It had been absolutely ages since he'd had it hard and fast like this in the wake of orgasm, and it was easy to forget how amazingly all-consumingly good it felt.
Here was a feeling worthy of Heaven, he thought, dizzy with the intensity of it; here was something well worth the tedium of eternity.
His penis was stiffening up nicely, now, encouraged by all the attention his prostate was getting; when Kenren's hands shifted to his hips he had half a second's hope that one of those hands would move a little more front-and-center, but his general merely gripped him firmly by the hips and straightened up, changing position for better control. It left Tenpou facedown on the desk, one hand still clenched on the edge and the other fisted against his open mouth, shoulders hunched, eyes closed and small sounds spilling out of his throat as Kenren eased up, slowed down, and started moving with a little more finesse.
And oh, but that was a beautiful thing, however much he'd needed that raw primal pummeling straight out of the gate.
"Make't last, oughta make it last," Kenren was mumbling, ragged under his breath as he thrust slickly back into Tenpou time and again.
Tenpou tried to catch his breath and arched his back, pressing against Kenren as Kenren pushed repeatedly into him, sure and steady and oh so very good. "Oh," he gasped, "oh, I must say, Taishou, you certainly--ahn--certainly do live up to your reputation--"
Kenren's grin was clearly audible in his suitably breathless reply. "Damn right I do. Sir."
Tenpou forgave him his cheek, because it was well-founded and entirely deserved, and lost himself in the beauty of it.
He sank in the motion and sensation and the primal cadence of their coupling for a long moment, his head spinning pleasantly; Kenren made his body sing, made him feel bright and alive and immediate, made him feel real, and it could hardly be more perfect. Kenren moved in a smooth, precise rhythm that drew tight trembling heat from every pore and pooled it deep in the pit of Tenpou's belly, in and out and over and over again; it was exquisite, the repetitive push and glide, the circular little grind he kept executing while buried deep up in Tenpou, so good, so good--like all the best things in the world condensed into a fleeting, intimate touch. Tenpou's breath hitched as Kenren did it again, because oh, it felt--it felt--it almost reminded him of Goujun, of the way that Goujun moved--
Kenren pulled all the way out and thrust deep again, hard, and Tenpou's meandering thoughts exploded, rained down in glittering bits like so many fireworks.
The sound that came out of his mouth was garbled and incoherent but whole-hearted approval.
Kenren took that for the encouragement it clearly was and did it again, and again and again and again, brutal and merciless and utterly beautiful. Tenpou choked out one gasping cry after another, clinging to the desk as control spun away and everything inside of him began gathering for a wild rush to the finish. Pleasure surged hot and tight through his core, raced along every nerve ending and back, made him hyper-aware of every touch--Kenren's hands sweaty on his hips, slipping minutely but gripping securely all the same; the zipper of Kenren's fly biting into the top of his thighs, the edge of the desk pressing into his stomach, the slight movement of air against his testicles as they swung helplessly with each swift thrust. He would swear to feeling every minute contour of Kenren's penis sliding forcefully within him in exquisite detail and he thought perhaps he might die if this went on too terribly much longer; his own penis was hard and ready, bumping up against the side of the desk which was not even close to enough of anything to bring him off.
Dizzy, reeling, breathless, he opened his mouth. "Touch me," he ordered, or begged--hardly a difference between the two by now, as it was.
Kenren bent over him, one arm wrapping around his waist to haul him just slightly off the desk; the other hand brushed lightly up the underside of his penis while Kenren laid himself over Tenpou's back and Tenpou jerked in his embrace.
"So hard," Kenren panted, breath hot and humid behind Tenpou's ear. "Damn, you just came, but you're so hard...you're that hot for me?" His fingers brushed the length of it again, teasing.
Tenpou tensed up, shaking, both hands gripping either edge of the desk for dear life as Kenren closed a hand around him and pulled gently.
And kept pumping into him hard and fast from behind.
Some small little corner of Tenpou's mind took a second out to be impressed that Kenren had enough mental focus even now to move his hand at complete odds with the speed of his hips. Remarkable, really, and deliciously frustrating; he squirmed, unable to help himself, and succeeded only in upsetting the steady rhythm from both sides.
"Hold still," Kenren gasped, squeezing firmly with the hand that had found its way back to Tenpou's hip, and Tenpou made a desperate, pitiful noise in the back of his throat.
Kenren teased a moment longer, stroking long and slow with his hand and pounding fiercely with his hips, before relenting; he finally synched the two rhythms together and it took no time at all from that point for Tenpou to lose it. The edge loomed up before him and he leaned out over it desperate and eager, suspended by the rising heat, the slick friction of Kenren working his body; it swelled, coalesced and intensified and overflowed, and Tenpou fell, flung himself over and down into it. He cried out high and sharp as climax tore through him at last, a searing tide of pleasure that surged along every nerve ending and lit up his brain and body like a super-nova, wrung him dry in sweet clenching spasms that shook him with their intensity and--
And Kenren fucked him straight through it, hard and unrelenting, pushing him well past the point where 'enough' became 'too much' and Tenpou clawed helpessly at the desk, blind and breathless, desperate to make it stop, desperate for more, more, MORE--
Kenren's rhythm heightened, faltered, stuttered out of control. "Oh, fuck," he gasped, hands convulsing on Tenpou's hips, and shoved in deep with a high bitten-off moan, finishing in spastic little jerks that pushed him impossibly deeper and made Tenpou's eyes water with the overload of sensation.
"Guh," Kenren said, with one last jerk, and collapsed on top of Tenpou, who groaned. He felt Kenren softening, sliding slowly out of him; he felt Kenren's semen following suit, leaking warm and wet onto his thigh and he shivered, completely sated, just trying to catch his breath.
The seconds stretched into a minute, then beyond, and the office was silent but for their ragged panting and the tick-tick-ticking of a clock somewhere amidst all the clutter.
"...Fuck me," Kenren managed at last, heartfelt and very nearly reverent as he shifted off of Tenpou and slid heavily to the floor, ending up on his ass beside Tenpou's feet.
Tenpou didn't move from his sprawl across the desk, spent and boneless and feeling delightfully debauched, and would have agreed that sounded like a fine idea for next time if only he could find his voice.
=====
Started: 12/22/08
Anon half posted: 02/08/09
Full draft: 11/7/12
Posted (complete): 12/9/12
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Date: 2012-12-11 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-11 04:21 am (UTC)