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fic: Meticulous (Or: Nothing Heals Me Like You Do) [kink meme archival]
I’m not sure if this is for the game guide (as I started an au with takeout Chinese dinners, hot summers and too much gaming), bribe for new chapters of blankfic/hfic or something else entirely – either way, here it is. Admittedly unbetaed. I was going to send it to beta, but the thought of betaing pwp porn makes me giggle for some reason, I don't know why.
Ike had not expected to find some secret well of passion in Soren, nor did he. However, Ike did find that Soren was very... meticulous. Soren/Ike
*
Soren leaned up and adjusted Ike’s cloak.
“One last meeting,” Ike said.
“Meet me afterwards.”
Ike nodded.
“Ike...don’t be late,” Soren said. His hands lingered on Ike’s collar. It was a quick touch, but it held more contained passion than a kiss.
“You’ve had a long day. I’ll take care of you,”Soren said finally.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.,” Ike said.
*
One long war room session later Ike made his way back to Soren. It seemed every part of him was fatigued. There was a muscle-twitch in his calf, it hurt every time his feet moved over the ground.
And Soren knew how to take it all away.
Soren was seated on the desk in Ike’s quarters, reading through something in the dim light as he entered. Soren set the notes aside and turned to face him.
“I’m sorry. The meeting went long, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” Ike said.
“It’s fine,” Soren said. He primly got up and dusted himself off.
Ike reached to undo Soren’s belt, but Soren placed a hand over his. Ike looked quizzical.
“Soren, what is—”
Soren’s fingers on his lips silenced whatever he was going to say.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said in a surprisingly firm voice.
First Soren undid the cloak and it fluttered to the ground. He kissed up Ike’s neck then nibbled, light bites and warm breaths against him. Soren pushed him towards the bed, slowly, carefully, in calculated steps. He undid Ike’s belt and pulled off the tunic; Even at the height of passion, Soren was altogether composed.
Soren nodded towards the bed.
“On your stomach,” he said.
Ike did as commanded. He was blind to whatever Soren had in store, but he trusted Soren completely, almost as much as Soren trusted him.
He inhaled the scent of clean sheets and felt light touches as Soren straddled him. Soren’s hands were on him then, kneading out the pain in all his sore muscles, taking such care, with each touch Soren caressed out the knots of tension. Every cell in his body felt as if it’d gone into a deep relaxation under Soren’s fingers.
Ike sighed in contentment.
Soren was still clothed, yet he’d hiked up the skirts of his robe, Soren sat against him in such a way that he could feel the the friction of Soren’s arousal against him. They settled into a rhythm, Soren’s hands over him, light touches going deeper into deeper strokes along the thread and sinew of his muscles.
“Turn over,” Soren said, his breath catching.
Soren moved off him and Ike turned over. Soren resumed his position, straddling over his waist. Their erections rubbed together as he moved. Ike groaned, Soren’s reaction was a soft restrained breath.
He massaged over Ike’s shoulders, and moved closer, to taste the willing skin, nibble until he left tiny marks, bruises that would linger for days. Soren licked his way down, tracing lines with his tongue over each nipple.
Ike’s hands wandered up Soren’s robes, over his thighs as he edged up the robes. Soren undid his belt, and they worked together to undo his robes, push them over his head until there was no barrier between them but Ike’s pants (now too tight) and Soren’s undergarments.
And those barriers wouldn’t last long.
Soren reached for the oil to prepare himself, he opened it and poured a small amount out on his palm. As he stripped of that one last bit of cloth, Ike remembered back. Soren’s hands on him, the feeling of friction as Soren had massaged his back, clothes were a bare, faint barrier between their skin. It had felt so good, and all he could think was that he wanted more.
“Soren, I want to feel it this time.”
Soren paused.
“But, I’m taking care of you. That will hurt.”
Ike shrugged. He’d been wounded and close to death more times than he could count, a little amount of pain would be barely noticeable.
“I want this,” Ike said, his hand over Soren’s. He squeezed his hand, in reassurance, in comfort. Little gestures spoke far louder than words between them.
Soren answered the gesture with a kiss. He gripped Ike’s shoulders and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, open-mouthed, tongues touching. It elicited a soft, lilting moan from Soren as their lips met again at different angles.
Soren kissed down his neck with renewed fervor, nibbling, tasting the skin. Ike could feel the pressure of Soren’s hands on him, pressing him down, running appreciatively over pectoral muscles. Soren reveling in the feel, the taste, the touch of him.
Ike wasn’t used to playing a submissive role, but it was strangely freeing, and he was hardly going to let Soren do all the work. He ran his hands over Soren’s slim body, starting first at the small of his back and moving upwards to rest them at the back of his neck.
Soren gave one last appreciative stroke down his chest, kissed his lips one more time before moving away. He murmured something about oil, and reached over to find the forgotten bottle. He balanced it and took far more than the needed amount, and smoothed it over his hand.
Ike raised an eyebrow.
“I wanted to make sure I had enough,” Soren said.
“I’m not going to break,” Ike said, more than a little amused.
“One can never be too careful,” he replied, only a trifle indignant.
Soren pressed on his thighs, to push his legs wider. His hands were slick with oil, and Ike groaned at the contact.
Ike could feel Soren’s fingers, slow, almost tentative as he slipped them inside his body and stroked him from the inside. It was a different feeling, having Soren inside him. There was discomfort at first, but before long his body began to relax to the pressure. Muscles loosened slowly, and Soren took his time. Soren loved as he did everything; slow, with careful planning to each move.
Soren removed his fingers, repositioned himself and eased himself into Ike. He pulled Soren deeper, craving more, harder, deeper. Soren groaned and held on tighter, his nails digging into Ike’s skin. Soren gave a startled moan, but bit his lip quickly to stifle it. Ike, having no sense of self-consciousness or innate sense of shame, didn’t bother to stifle his moans.
He loved the expression on Soren’s face, a mixture of pleasure and determination, strength and weakness. As Soren rocked against him, he could feel Soren’s hair brush against him, tickling his chest. His erection was pressed between both of them, rubbing against Soren’s stomach. Ike knew at this rate, he’d never last long.
They moved in tandem, Soren was far gentler than need be. Each thrust, the heat, the friction of their bodies, he could lose himself in this kind of pleasure
When climax came over him, it was a sudden heady rush, he sank deep into the bed. Everything felt softer, warmer. His skin felt overheated, he could feel the heat seeping into his body where Soren was, face buried against his chest.
Soren rolled off him but not far, he rested his head in the crook of Ike’s arm. There was a sort of calm that could only come after sex. Ike breathed deep, and felt the rise and fall of Soren’s rib cage near him.
“We should do this more often,” Ike said.
Soren nodded sleepily.
Ike could hear Soren’s breathing become more even as he drifted off to sleep. Soon, Ike drifted off as well.
Ike had not expected to find some secret well of passion in Soren, nor did he. However, Ike did find that Soren was very... meticulous. Soren/Ike
*
Soren leaned up and adjusted Ike’s cloak.
“One last meeting,” Ike said.
“Meet me afterwards.”
Ike nodded.
“Ike...don’t be late,” Soren said. His hands lingered on Ike’s collar. It was a quick touch, but it held more contained passion than a kiss.
“You’ve had a long day. I’ll take care of you,”Soren said finally.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.,” Ike said.
*
One long war room session later Ike made his way back to Soren. It seemed every part of him was fatigued. There was a muscle-twitch in his calf, it hurt every time his feet moved over the ground.
And Soren knew how to take it all away.
Soren was seated on the desk in Ike’s quarters, reading through something in the dim light as he entered. Soren set the notes aside and turned to face him.
“I’m sorry. The meeting went long, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,” Ike said.
“It’s fine,” Soren said. He primly got up and dusted himself off.
Ike reached to undo Soren’s belt, but Soren placed a hand over his. Ike looked quizzical.
“Soren, what is—”
Soren’s fingers on his lips silenced whatever he was going to say.
“I’ll take care of you,” he said in a surprisingly firm voice.
First Soren undid the cloak and it fluttered to the ground. He kissed up Ike’s neck then nibbled, light bites and warm breaths against him. Soren pushed him towards the bed, slowly, carefully, in calculated steps. He undid Ike’s belt and pulled off the tunic; Even at the height of passion, Soren was altogether composed.
Soren nodded towards the bed.
“On your stomach,” he said.
Ike did as commanded. He was blind to whatever Soren had in store, but he trusted Soren completely, almost as much as Soren trusted him.
He inhaled the scent of clean sheets and felt light touches as Soren straddled him. Soren’s hands were on him then, kneading out the pain in all his sore muscles, taking such care, with each touch Soren caressed out the knots of tension. Every cell in his body felt as if it’d gone into a deep relaxation under Soren’s fingers.
Ike sighed in contentment.
Soren was still clothed, yet he’d hiked up the skirts of his robe, Soren sat against him in such a way that he could feel the the friction of Soren’s arousal against him. They settled into a rhythm, Soren’s hands over him, light touches going deeper into deeper strokes along the thread and sinew of his muscles.
“Turn over,” Soren said, his breath catching.
Soren moved off him and Ike turned over. Soren resumed his position, straddling over his waist. Their erections rubbed together as he moved. Ike groaned, Soren’s reaction was a soft restrained breath.
He massaged over Ike’s shoulders, and moved closer, to taste the willing skin, nibble until he left tiny marks, bruises that would linger for days. Soren licked his way down, tracing lines with his tongue over each nipple.
Ike’s hands wandered up Soren’s robes, over his thighs as he edged up the robes. Soren undid his belt, and they worked together to undo his robes, push them over his head until there was no barrier between them but Ike’s pants (now too tight) and Soren’s undergarments.
And those barriers wouldn’t last long.
Soren reached for the oil to prepare himself, he opened it and poured a small amount out on his palm. As he stripped of that one last bit of cloth, Ike remembered back. Soren’s hands on him, the feeling of friction as Soren had massaged his back, clothes were a bare, faint barrier between their skin. It had felt so good, and all he could think was that he wanted more.
“Soren, I want to feel it this time.”
Soren paused.
“But, I’m taking care of you. That will hurt.”
Ike shrugged. He’d been wounded and close to death more times than he could count, a little amount of pain would be barely noticeable.
“I want this,” Ike said, his hand over Soren’s. He squeezed his hand, in reassurance, in comfort. Little gestures spoke far louder than words between them.
Soren answered the gesture with a kiss. He gripped Ike’s shoulders and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss, open-mouthed, tongues touching. It elicited a soft, lilting moan from Soren as their lips met again at different angles.
Soren kissed down his neck with renewed fervor, nibbling, tasting the skin. Ike could feel the pressure of Soren’s hands on him, pressing him down, running appreciatively over pectoral muscles. Soren reveling in the feel, the taste, the touch of him.
Ike wasn’t used to playing a submissive role, but it was strangely freeing, and he was hardly going to let Soren do all the work. He ran his hands over Soren’s slim body, starting first at the small of his back and moving upwards to rest them at the back of his neck.
Soren gave one last appreciative stroke down his chest, kissed his lips one more time before moving away. He murmured something about oil, and reached over to find the forgotten bottle. He balanced it and took far more than the needed amount, and smoothed it over his hand.
Ike raised an eyebrow.
“I wanted to make sure I had enough,” Soren said.
“I’m not going to break,” Ike said, more than a little amused.
“One can never be too careful,” he replied, only a trifle indignant.
Soren pressed on his thighs, to push his legs wider. His hands were slick with oil, and Ike groaned at the contact.
Ike could feel Soren’s fingers, slow, almost tentative as he slipped them inside his body and stroked him from the inside. It was a different feeling, having Soren inside him. There was discomfort at first, but before long his body began to relax to the pressure. Muscles loosened slowly, and Soren took his time. Soren loved as he did everything; slow, with careful planning to each move.
Soren removed his fingers, repositioned himself and eased himself into Ike. He pulled Soren deeper, craving more, harder, deeper. Soren groaned and held on tighter, his nails digging into Ike’s skin. Soren gave a startled moan, but bit his lip quickly to stifle it. Ike, having no sense of self-consciousness or innate sense of shame, didn’t bother to stifle his moans.
He loved the expression on Soren’s face, a mixture of pleasure and determination, strength and weakness. As Soren rocked against him, he could feel Soren’s hair brush against him, tickling his chest. His erection was pressed between both of them, rubbing against Soren’s stomach. Ike knew at this rate, he’d never last long.
They moved in tandem, Soren was far gentler than need be. Each thrust, the heat, the friction of their bodies, he could lose himself in this kind of pleasure
When climax came over him, it was a sudden heady rush, he sank deep into the bed. Everything felt softer, warmer. His skin felt overheated, he could feel the heat seeping into his body where Soren was, face buried against his chest.
Soren rolled off him but not far, he rested his head in the crook of Ike’s arm. There was a sort of calm that could only come after sex. Ike breathed deep, and felt the rise and fall of Soren’s rib cage near him.
“We should do this more often,” Ike said.
Soren nodded sleepily.
Ike could hear Soren’s breathing become more even as he drifted off to sleep. Soon, Ike drifted off as well.
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