fic: Entwined
Apr. 12th, 2009 11:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Entwined.
Series: FE10AU
Character/Pairing: Soren/Ike, Ike/Soren
Rating: NC-17.
Word count: 2,475
A/N: in the same sequence as Interruptions and Articles of Choice, and yet another bad pun for a title. Here’s the (light) bondage shedemanded, repeatedly requested. Pure porn, modern au, etc. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
searains made me do it but it took at least three days or so for me to finally give in.
--
It all started with that damned magazine. After the piercing incident. Ike seemed only inclined to go further. Soren could never quite bring himself to deny Ike’s wants, even if they involved things he’d normally never think about, let alone do.
So that was how Ike came home with an extra plait of twine and a knowing half-smile on his face.
“You do know it’s my turn,” Soren said slowly. Ike already owed him dozens of turns for the piercing alone. A lifetime of turns, really.
“Yeah,” Ike said. “I know.”
“Regardless of whose turn it is, I have filing to finish,” Soren said.
“It can wait,” Ike replied.
“Ike, I have work to do,” Soren said testily.
“Not anymore,” Ike said. “I’m your boss, remember?”
“I thought sexual propositioning constituted sexual harassment?” Soren said.
“Not when you’re my lover,” Ike said. “Besides, you want it.”
And Ike was right. He did want it. Soren wasn’t a sexual person by nature but with Ike he had learned to be.
“Fine,” Soren said. “Off.”
Soren sat back regally as Ike stripped off his clothes. He could’ve helped, he wanted to help, but for the moment, it was pushed aside. He sat in silence and with a blank expression, as if to feign disinterest to the scene being revealed before him. That was as far from the truth as possible.
Ike could have easily made a fortune with Chippendales. Any living, breathing woman would pay to see his shirt pulled up so careless, so casual over his head, and thrown on the floor in a pile. Form the width of his shoulders, his perfect chest, abs, each muscled inch. Hard, in the manner of a statue of a Greek god.
Soren crossed his legs and his arms. He was grimacing now, and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Ike.
Ike grinned, that knowing, infuriating grin and slipped his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans.
“Take it off. Now,” Soren commanded. It was almost to the point of being imperious, but was truly a cover, a concealer – all to hide the fact that his breath was hitching now, and his blood was pulsing now, and not even if an explosion, a bomb went off would he be able to draw his eyes away.
“I don’t know, I’m rather fond of these jeans..I could just leave them on,” Ike said.
“Ike–”
“I wouldn’t be cruel like that,” Ike laughed. He peeled off the jeans exposing well-toned thighs and calves and his blue and black plaid boxers, that revealed just enough indentation to show that this display seemed to be doing exactly as much for him as it was doing for Soren.
Soren simply glared, and that was enough for that barrier to be removed as well as Ike stood before him in all his glory.
“Lie down,” Soren said, as if Ike needed directions to the bed. Ike did so, falling into it, the bedsprings creaking beneath his weight. That certainly wasn’t the only creaking they’d be doing.
Ike reclined and waited. Soren climbed on top of and straddled him, and leaned up to adjust the twine. Soren knotted the rope with precision. He didn’t want it coming undone during the deed. Ike was a surprisingly good, still and pliant. Ike lifted his arms when commanded, which was good because Soren couldn’t have lifted them well on his own. Being a top with a person who was twice and weight could be ungainly at times. But still, ever so worth it.
“You’re still dressed,” Ike said.
“Yes, I’m getting to that,” Soren said.
Soren dealt with his shirt as an afterthought. From his position he could lift his arms up and remove it, and Ike could and did watch him do so. Soren had to actual leave his beloved position to remove his pants, so much so that he was tempted to do as Ike had done at times, to simply unzip but leave his pants on. But Soren was to be an oxymoron: A just yet tyrannical leader. He slipped off and stepped out of his pants, his briefs were next. Now, freed of those cloth barriers, Soren returned gratefully to his perch atop Ike.
Soren shivered and pulled the blanket up with him
“Cold?” Ike said with amusement.
“Yes,” Soren replied.
“You’ll warm right up,” Ike said.
Soren scoffed but knew Ike was right. He began with the same precision he had used to tie up Ike. He licked and bit below Ike’s collarbone, taking by turns lower and higher. Soren was a biter; he left marks so deep on Ike they would last for days onwards.
The friction of their two bodies rubbing was perfection itself. Ike failed at being a bottom, he ground and moved up to meet Soren’s body at every angle. At times tugged at his binds as if he forgot that he was tied up at all.
“If you don’t stop it I’m going to come early,” Soren ground out.
“Then we’ll do it again,” Ike said. “As many times as it needs to be.”
Soren didn’t have the libido Ike did. His desires were muted, and even if his wants solely circled around Ike, that didn’t mean he wanted to be in bed with Ike every second or go five rounds.
His complaint died in his mouth and was replaced by a gasp as Ike grinded into him again and again. In retaliation, Soren kissed, a bitting sort of kiss as the friction grew unbearable.
“Ike, it’ll make a mess.”
“There’s a way to fix that,” Ike said. His voice was soft, silky even.
“There’d still be a mess from one of us,” Soren said.
“Come here, I’ll help,” Ike said.
“You’re tied up,” Soren said.
“Sit up here,” Ike said.
“ It’d be too heavy,” Soren said.
“You’re light,” Ike replied.
Soren sighed and gave up. He climbed up high enough and gripped the headboard to keep as much of his weight off of Ike’s face as was possible. He angled enough and shuddered as he felt each heated wet lick of Ike’s tongue. Each lick, lave, brush of Ike left him with a little less self-control. Ike never was as meticulous as Soren, he was harder, without order almost to the point of being chaotic. If Soren’s attention were neat rows of sheet music, Ike was cacophony. Ike took him in, until his member was completely enclosed in that wet warmth, and Soren’s hands trembled at the support of the headboard.
Despite his resolve to keep off of Ike’s face, to lessen the burden, the pleasure was maddening. Ike was born without a gag reflex, he could and often did suck all the way to the base and it was so spine tingling, so amazing that Soren couldn’t even think straight. Ike’s chin was brushing against his balls and it felt so different from every other time they’d ever done this. If Soren could’ve had one thought, it was that Ike seemed to be enjoying this too. He let out a half-formed gasp as the tension that was his constant companion abated. Everything was warm, and his shoulders slumped as his full weight was there, on Ike, his body slightly lolling forward.
Soren climbed off. He thought to apologize, but he knew he hadn’t actually hurt Ike. It would take a lot more to make a lasting scar over Ike’s fast healing skin. It’d take more to break bones or even give him a crick in the neck. Soren wanted to simply curl up and fall into post-coital sleep, but there was Ike to satisfy too.
“I want you inside,” Ike said.
He was already wet from saliva, and Ike had a much higher tolerance than Soren. He didn’t need nearly as much preparation. Despite this, Soren was still spent from just coming. Well, that could be solved. He went back to kissing Ike and filled his mind with the most arousing images that he could possibly think of – Ike being tied naked to the bed among them.
With that kind of onslaught, and the feeling of Ike’s thick erection against him, it wasn’t long before he too was hard again. Ike always lasted a lot longer than him, or perhaps just because Ike was so aggressive and Soren was so weak to his attentions that he could never last. He could come just by the sound of Ike’s voice, and had more than once. Ike seemed bemused by how quickly he could make Soren climax. Once, for sport, he’d gotten Soren to come four times in less than a half hour.
His legs were spread about enough, and Soren took a long breath before he entered. Ike never minded the discomfort, even the increased amount from the lack of stretching. The heat inside was blinding. He could feel tender muscles and the throb and ebb of Ike surrounding him. He wanted all of Ike’s flesh, everything
Soren started out hard, for even if he knew this would be harder to last long, he also knew that Ike preferred it rougher. It was only to prevent Soren getting hurt that Ike didn’t go harder when ye was the one inside. But Soren was flexible when it came to Ike. He would bend himself, his ways and his feelings to whatever Ike wanted, and wanted to feel.
“Harder.”
“I’m already going as much as I can,” Soren gritted out, barely able to make out the words. If Ike’s hands had been free he would’ve gripped Soren’s bottom and ground him deeper until it was rough enough to be satisfied. But his hands were tied, and it was enough that Ike tugged at them. Still, Soren intricate knots held. He knew that stint in boy scouts would prove handy one day, even if he did fail completely at being helpful.
But Soren did as he was asked, ordered, begged to and thrust deep and hard. His fingernails were sharp, and dug into Ike’s back as he moved in that same hurried rhythm. Blood rushed through his veins, pulsed, blended. He gasped and held back a moan. Ike didn’t. He openly grunted, groaned and moaned as Soren felt sticky wet seed over his stomach and chest. That, the heat, the muscles compressing around him and look of sheer rapture on Ike’s face was enough to make Soren reach climax too.
They drooped into the feeling of pure release that washed over them. It was the second time for Soren, first for Ike. They stayed like that for several minutes, wet, sweaty and sated as the warmth seeped through them both.
Finally, it was broken with a long sigh of satisfaction from Ike.
“Untie me, will you?”
The first thing Soren noticed was that the knots had loosened somewhat. He shook it off and finished the rest of the untying. Ike withdrew his hands and rubbed his wrists. They were rope burned.
Soren narrowed his eyes. “You shouldn’t have pulled so much at the ropes.”
“It was worth it.”
Soren shook his head and climbed off. He hadn’t focused, and he hadn’t expected to feel robe tight about his wrists and Ike behind him.
“Ike, what are you—”
“Taking my turn,” Ike said, soft against his ear. He licked the outer shell of Soren’s ear and Soren shivered.
Ike didn’t bother to tie him to the headboard, but with Ike holding him down in the gentlest, but firmest of ways, it wasn’t really needed. It wasn’t as if he was going to shake Ike off of him, nor would he want to. He didn’t protest. Ike could do whatever he wanted to him and Soren would let him, and besides, he was far too aroused to even think of saying no.
He was on his stomach, legs spread, with Ike bent over him. Saliva wet fingers pressed in and came out in a slipshod rhythm that left Soren swaying his hips in time.
Ike bit at the back of his neck. It was animalistic, raw, and Soren bucked beneath him.
Soren wanted to grip at the sheets, but his hands were still tired beneath him. He settled for clenching his fingers, hard enough that he could feel his fingernails dig into the flesh of his palm.
.
He cloud feel Ike’s warm breath against his neck, his back his skin. His body was flushed with pleasure. He was taut, waiting just for a touch to unhinge, release him.
“Now?” Ike said, a breath against him.
Nnn was Soren’s only reply, an unsaying affirmative, monosyllabic, textured, his.
Ike understood, found between the lines and parted Soren’s legs just slightly more.
“Lift your hips, will you?”
Soren did, and bit his lips as he felt Ike enter, his own body stretching and tight about him, as tight as a glove to a hand. He heard a slow intake, a gasp and realized it was his own. Ike said something, muttered it but he couldn’t quite hear beyond the haze and the presence of Ike’s body. On top of him, overpowering him, inside him. And Soren couldn’t be more willing, more wanting of this. Of Ike.
“Are you ok?” Ike said. He brushed a bit of hair from the nape of Soren’s nape and left a kiss there, faint, soft and damp/
“I’m fine, Ike. Just move – uh!”
Ike did just that. Soren lifted, arched up as much as he could as the bed creaked beneath them, spilling their secrets to anyone near. He could hear all the sounds Ike made, the groans, the heavy breathing, the muttered half words. As the pressure rose, pulse pounding, he felt Ike nuzzle against the back of his neck. The hands holding him down were steady, loving.
It faded, falling. A clear tone, a feeling that was entirely different and entirely the same came across him. His body spasmed and climaxed beneath Ikes, lips still to his skin He felt a warm burst, Ike finishing off as well. Soren sighed, soft as Ike disengaged and rolled off. He was spent from the sheer extent of loving.
“Ike, Don’t forget to untie—”
The sound of a snore greeted his request.
Soren rolled his eyes, rolled over and leaned in. He couldn’t untangle himself at this point, but then it was fitting. He’d never been able to untangle himself from Ike either.
Series: FE10AU
Character/Pairing: Soren/Ike, Ike/Soren
Rating: NC-17.
Word count: 2,475
A/N: in the same sequence as Interruptions and Articles of Choice, and yet another bad pun for a title. Here’s the (light) bondage she
searains made me do it but it took at least three days or so for me to finally give in.--
It all started with that damned magazine. After the piercing incident. Ike seemed only inclined to go further. Soren could never quite bring himself to deny Ike’s wants, even if they involved things he’d normally never think about, let alone do.
So that was how Ike came home with an extra plait of twine and a knowing half-smile on his face.
“You do know it’s my turn,” Soren said slowly. Ike already owed him dozens of turns for the piercing alone. A lifetime of turns, really.
“Yeah,” Ike said. “I know.”
“Regardless of whose turn it is, I have filing to finish,” Soren said.
“It can wait,” Ike replied.
“Ike, I have work to do,” Soren said testily.
“Not anymore,” Ike said. “I’m your boss, remember?”
“I thought sexual propositioning constituted sexual harassment?” Soren said.
“Not when you’re my lover,” Ike said. “Besides, you want it.”
And Ike was right. He did want it. Soren wasn’t a sexual person by nature but with Ike he had learned to be.
“Fine,” Soren said. “Off.”
Soren sat back regally as Ike stripped off his clothes. He could’ve helped, he wanted to help, but for the moment, it was pushed aside. He sat in silence and with a blank expression, as if to feign disinterest to the scene being revealed before him. That was as far from the truth as possible.
Ike could have easily made a fortune with Chippendales. Any living, breathing woman would pay to see his shirt pulled up so careless, so casual over his head, and thrown on the floor in a pile. Form the width of his shoulders, his perfect chest, abs, each muscled inch. Hard, in the manner of a statue of a Greek god.
Soren crossed his legs and his arms. He was grimacing now, and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Ike.
Ike grinned, that knowing, infuriating grin and slipped his fingers through the belt loops of his jeans.
“Take it off. Now,” Soren commanded. It was almost to the point of being imperious, but was truly a cover, a concealer – all to hide the fact that his breath was hitching now, and his blood was pulsing now, and not even if an explosion, a bomb went off would he be able to draw his eyes away.
“I don’t know, I’m rather fond of these jeans..I could just leave them on,” Ike said.
“Ike–”
“I wouldn’t be cruel like that,” Ike laughed. He peeled off the jeans exposing well-toned thighs and calves and his blue and black plaid boxers, that revealed just enough indentation to show that this display seemed to be doing exactly as much for him as it was doing for Soren.
Soren simply glared, and that was enough for that barrier to be removed as well as Ike stood before him in all his glory.
“Lie down,” Soren said, as if Ike needed directions to the bed. Ike did so, falling into it, the bedsprings creaking beneath his weight. That certainly wasn’t the only creaking they’d be doing.
Ike reclined and waited. Soren climbed on top of and straddled him, and leaned up to adjust the twine. Soren knotted the rope with precision. He didn’t want it coming undone during the deed. Ike was a surprisingly good, still and pliant. Ike lifted his arms when commanded, which was good because Soren couldn’t have lifted them well on his own. Being a top with a person who was twice and weight could be ungainly at times. But still, ever so worth it.
“You’re still dressed,” Ike said.
“Yes, I’m getting to that,” Soren said.
Soren dealt with his shirt as an afterthought. From his position he could lift his arms up and remove it, and Ike could and did watch him do so. Soren had to actual leave his beloved position to remove his pants, so much so that he was tempted to do as Ike had done at times, to simply unzip but leave his pants on. But Soren was to be an oxymoron: A just yet tyrannical leader. He slipped off and stepped out of his pants, his briefs were next. Now, freed of those cloth barriers, Soren returned gratefully to his perch atop Ike.
Soren shivered and pulled the blanket up with him
“Cold?” Ike said with amusement.
“Yes,” Soren replied.
“You’ll warm right up,” Ike said.
Soren scoffed but knew Ike was right. He began with the same precision he had used to tie up Ike. He licked and bit below Ike’s collarbone, taking by turns lower and higher. Soren was a biter; he left marks so deep on Ike they would last for days onwards.
The friction of their two bodies rubbing was perfection itself. Ike failed at being a bottom, he ground and moved up to meet Soren’s body at every angle. At times tugged at his binds as if he forgot that he was tied up at all.
“If you don’t stop it I’m going to come early,” Soren ground out.
“Then we’ll do it again,” Ike said. “As many times as it needs to be.”
Soren didn’t have the libido Ike did. His desires were muted, and even if his wants solely circled around Ike, that didn’t mean he wanted to be in bed with Ike every second or go five rounds.
His complaint died in his mouth and was replaced by a gasp as Ike grinded into him again and again. In retaliation, Soren kissed, a bitting sort of kiss as the friction grew unbearable.
“Ike, it’ll make a mess.”
“There’s a way to fix that,” Ike said. His voice was soft, silky even.
“There’d still be a mess from one of us,” Soren said.
“Come here, I’ll help,” Ike said.
“You’re tied up,” Soren said.
“Sit up here,” Ike said.
“ It’d be too heavy,” Soren said.
“You’re light,” Ike replied.
Soren sighed and gave up. He climbed up high enough and gripped the headboard to keep as much of his weight off of Ike’s face as was possible. He angled enough and shuddered as he felt each heated wet lick of Ike’s tongue. Each lick, lave, brush of Ike left him with a little less self-control. Ike never was as meticulous as Soren, he was harder, without order almost to the point of being chaotic. If Soren’s attention were neat rows of sheet music, Ike was cacophony. Ike took him in, until his member was completely enclosed in that wet warmth, and Soren’s hands trembled at the support of the headboard.
Despite his resolve to keep off of Ike’s face, to lessen the burden, the pleasure was maddening. Ike was born without a gag reflex, he could and often did suck all the way to the base and it was so spine tingling, so amazing that Soren couldn’t even think straight. Ike’s chin was brushing against his balls and it felt so different from every other time they’d ever done this. If Soren could’ve had one thought, it was that Ike seemed to be enjoying this too. He let out a half-formed gasp as the tension that was his constant companion abated. Everything was warm, and his shoulders slumped as his full weight was there, on Ike, his body slightly lolling forward.
Soren climbed off. He thought to apologize, but he knew he hadn’t actually hurt Ike. It would take a lot more to make a lasting scar over Ike’s fast healing skin. It’d take more to break bones or even give him a crick in the neck. Soren wanted to simply curl up and fall into post-coital sleep, but there was Ike to satisfy too.
“I want you inside,” Ike said.
He was already wet from saliva, and Ike had a much higher tolerance than Soren. He didn’t need nearly as much preparation. Despite this, Soren was still spent from just coming. Well, that could be solved. He went back to kissing Ike and filled his mind with the most arousing images that he could possibly think of – Ike being tied naked to the bed among them.
With that kind of onslaught, and the feeling of Ike’s thick erection against him, it wasn’t long before he too was hard again. Ike always lasted a lot longer than him, or perhaps just because Ike was so aggressive and Soren was so weak to his attentions that he could never last. He could come just by the sound of Ike’s voice, and had more than once. Ike seemed bemused by how quickly he could make Soren climax. Once, for sport, he’d gotten Soren to come four times in less than a half hour.
His legs were spread about enough, and Soren took a long breath before he entered. Ike never minded the discomfort, even the increased amount from the lack of stretching. The heat inside was blinding. He could feel tender muscles and the throb and ebb of Ike surrounding him. He wanted all of Ike’s flesh, everything
Soren started out hard, for even if he knew this would be harder to last long, he also knew that Ike preferred it rougher. It was only to prevent Soren getting hurt that Ike didn’t go harder when ye was the one inside. But Soren was flexible when it came to Ike. He would bend himself, his ways and his feelings to whatever Ike wanted, and wanted to feel.
“Harder.”
“I’m already going as much as I can,” Soren gritted out, barely able to make out the words. If Ike’s hands had been free he would’ve gripped Soren’s bottom and ground him deeper until it was rough enough to be satisfied. But his hands were tied, and it was enough that Ike tugged at them. Still, Soren intricate knots held. He knew that stint in boy scouts would prove handy one day, even if he did fail completely at being helpful.
But Soren did as he was asked, ordered, begged to and thrust deep and hard. His fingernails were sharp, and dug into Ike’s back as he moved in that same hurried rhythm. Blood rushed through his veins, pulsed, blended. He gasped and held back a moan. Ike didn’t. He openly grunted, groaned and moaned as Soren felt sticky wet seed over his stomach and chest. That, the heat, the muscles compressing around him and look of sheer rapture on Ike’s face was enough to make Soren reach climax too.
They drooped into the feeling of pure release that washed over them. It was the second time for Soren, first for Ike. They stayed like that for several minutes, wet, sweaty and sated as the warmth seeped through them both.
Finally, it was broken with a long sigh of satisfaction from Ike.
“Untie me, will you?”
The first thing Soren noticed was that the knots had loosened somewhat. He shook it off and finished the rest of the untying. Ike withdrew his hands and rubbed his wrists. They were rope burned.
Soren narrowed his eyes. “You shouldn’t have pulled so much at the ropes.”
“It was worth it.”
Soren shook his head and climbed off. He hadn’t focused, and he hadn’t expected to feel robe tight about his wrists and Ike behind him.
“Ike, what are you—”
“Taking my turn,” Ike said, soft against his ear. He licked the outer shell of Soren’s ear and Soren shivered.
Ike didn’t bother to tie him to the headboard, but with Ike holding him down in the gentlest, but firmest of ways, it wasn’t really needed. It wasn’t as if he was going to shake Ike off of him, nor would he want to. He didn’t protest. Ike could do whatever he wanted to him and Soren would let him, and besides, he was far too aroused to even think of saying no.
He was on his stomach, legs spread, with Ike bent over him. Saliva wet fingers pressed in and came out in a slipshod rhythm that left Soren swaying his hips in time.
Ike bit at the back of his neck. It was animalistic, raw, and Soren bucked beneath him.
Soren wanted to grip at the sheets, but his hands were still tired beneath him. He settled for clenching his fingers, hard enough that he could feel his fingernails dig into the flesh of his palm.
.
He cloud feel Ike’s warm breath against his neck, his back his skin. His body was flushed with pleasure. He was taut, waiting just for a touch to unhinge, release him.
“Now?” Ike said, a breath against him.
Nnn was Soren’s only reply, an unsaying affirmative, monosyllabic, textured, his.
Ike understood, found between the lines and parted Soren’s legs just slightly more.
“Lift your hips, will you?”
Soren did, and bit his lips as he felt Ike enter, his own body stretching and tight about him, as tight as a glove to a hand. He heard a slow intake, a gasp and realized it was his own. Ike said something, muttered it but he couldn’t quite hear beyond the haze and the presence of Ike’s body. On top of him, overpowering him, inside him. And Soren couldn’t be more willing, more wanting of this. Of Ike.
“Are you ok?” Ike said. He brushed a bit of hair from the nape of Soren’s nape and left a kiss there, faint, soft and damp/
“I’m fine, Ike. Just move – uh!”
Ike did just that. Soren lifted, arched up as much as he could as the bed creaked beneath them, spilling their secrets to anyone near. He could hear all the sounds Ike made, the groans, the heavy breathing, the muttered half words. As the pressure rose, pulse pounding, he felt Ike nuzzle against the back of his neck. The hands holding him down were steady, loving.
It faded, falling. A clear tone, a feeling that was entirely different and entirely the same came across him. His body spasmed and climaxed beneath Ikes, lips still to his skin He felt a warm burst, Ike finishing off as well. Soren sighed, soft as Ike disengaged and rolled off. He was spent from the sheer extent of loving.
“Ike, Don’t forget to untie—”
The sound of a snore greeted his request.
Soren rolled his eyes, rolled over and leaned in. He couldn’t untangle himself at this point, but then it was fitting. He’d never been able to untangle himself from Ike either.
