defeminized (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defeminized) wrote2010-07-28 07:02 pm
defeminized) wrote2010-07-28 07:02 pm
[Fic] What dreams are made of
Title: What dreams are made of
Pairing: Kame/Jin
Type: More or less PWP, NC17, oneshot
Summary: When Jin said he doesn't know what kind of dreams he ever had, he meant it.
Word Count: 1060
____
It could be a nightmare for all you care, but still you never could imagine him there, standing right in front of you, flashing you a menacing glare that eats you up within one second of eye contact.
You feel like he's penetrating every fiber of your feeble being. Like a frightened slave both fearing and anticipating his master's next words, you are nothing but inarticulate, incoherent, and completely disabled. You are scared, oh god, you freaking are.
He approaches you and you take a few steps back, daring your heads to remain steady, forcing your eyes to level to his. You know you are indefinitely stronger than him but he always reduces you into an energyless slump like he always does. You know he doesn't harm you, you know he wouldn't, but you feel a strange need to drive all thoughts of defying him out of your mind.
His touches are electric; he doesn't need to trace around your vulnerable spots to be able to excite your currently overworking neurotransmitters into an ecstatic frenzy. His eyes consistently mindfuck you; there is nothing you wish more than him hurrying up and not leave you hanging. You know he could be fast -- and you do mean fast. The mind-blowing fast, the heartbeat-racing fast, the clock-stopping fast. But you know he is not in one of those moods this time; he's taking his time with you, he's teasing the hell out of you, he's messing up your body coordination and you wish he could just go on already because you're don't like not knowing what's coming up next.
He's playing with you and enjoying every second of it.
You try moaning his name, "Kazu..", but he silences you with his index finger. He doesn't want to hear anything and he doesn't need to vocally tell you that. His eyes are his weapon, and you're weak. Very, very weak.
His thumb strokes your lips, slowly caressing the outlines and driving you mad with hunger. You're hungry for his kisses, hungry for his careless ravages, hungry for him.
Unfortunately, you're slow. Way too slow.
One second your eyes are on his crooked nose, and the next you are staring at his hair, for his nose is now nuzzling against your neck, very, very close to your most vulnerable spot. Your fingers grabbed his hair by instinct - for some reason the way his nose tickles just the side of your collarbone leaves you panting for breath.
You gasp, you threw your head backwards, you pull him closer. More, you whisper.
Take me, you plea wordlessly. Now, you breathe your demand. You're a spoilt child, a privileged boy, a very loved being.
You heartbeat is racing, pulsating through your every vein, throbbing beneath your skin. You pull him again, trying to feel him, but he is a cold stone to your flaming fire.
You're not pleased.
You grab his head, forcing his eyes to meet yours again, and bend down to press your lips against his.
But he won't let you.
You are now lying on your back on a surface you assumed is your bed, and he climbs on top on you, ripping your shirts open. You try to do the same but he catches both your hands and pushes them down above your head. His legs are stroking yours, hips slightly moving back and front to caress your increasing hard dick, making you wish that there were no fabrics separating both of you.
You wish your hands were free. You want them to be free.
You wiggle. You struggle. You fight.
He won't let you.
He kisses your lips, tracing his lips slowly down to your neck.
You moan. He licks.
You grunt. He bites.
You whimper. His tongue meet yours.
He won't let you have it your way.
His hands liberate yours, and he moves down slowly, tasting your body as he goes.
Your hands are free but you are frozen.
He doesn't need to speak but you know what he wants.
He wants you. His way. And wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Wouldn't tolerate your resistance. Wouldn't stand your stubbornness.
You give in.
He unbuckles you, and you tell him "unfair" with your eyes.
He smirks, rises up and moves forward.
Do it, he replies. You are thrilled.
You tear his shirt, you kiss his shoulder, you feel his body.
He is still a stone. But you're aroused.
You suck his neck as hard as possible. You probably will leave bruises but you know you won't be happy unless you feel his entire body racing with lust like yours.
You wrap him around with your arms. You ravage his beautiful skin with your hands. You press his body against yours.
He decides that enough is enough.
He goes down, bending towards your exposed dick, taking it in.
Your hands suddenly find themselves grasping at every available surface.
You're not high yet, you protest.
You're not playing fair, you object.
You're not supposed to make me come before I get to taste you fully. Shit, you're reaching there.
Don't. He didn't look up.
Wait. He continues working on it.
Hang on. He goes faster.
Your grip tighten. Your breaths get shorter. Your heartbeat races an ungodly speed.
He is good, really good. Kazu..
He's a master. Kazuya.
He's god, he's undefeatable, he's invincible. Kazuya, you...
He's making you -
You can't control it -
It's inevitable -
Wait, no -
You grip harder -
Harder -
You scream.
And woke up to see someone pulling the curtains open, flashing blinding sunrise rays to your eyes.
"Wake up already." Nakamaru's stern voice buzzing around your ears.
You look around, finding yourself very disappointed that it isn't dark and there are only two of you in the room.
"Where's Kame?" You pretend that he wasn't invading your dreams, giving you a blowjob that result in earth-shattering orgasms.
"Left. He has to negotiate a drama role for winter."
Lucky, you thought.
"You know, from the way you screamed, I thought you were having sex in your dreams."
He is right.
And you're never spilling the details out. Especially not to Nakamaru.
"What if Kame was here, and he heard you screaming like that? Gosh Akanishi, stop watching porn that involve blonde girls before you sleep next time."
If only he knew the truth.
____
Thanks for reading, it's a oneshot I did within an hour because I was that inspired and bored. Hope you enjoyed it!
Pairing: Kame/Jin
Type: More or less PWP, NC17, oneshot
Summary: When Jin said he doesn't know what kind of dreams he ever had, he meant it.
Word Count: 1060
It could be a nightmare for all you care, but still you never could imagine him there, standing right in front of you, flashing you a menacing glare that eats you up within one second of eye contact.
You feel like he's penetrating every fiber of your feeble being. Like a frightened slave both fearing and anticipating his master's next words, you are nothing but inarticulate, incoherent, and completely disabled. You are scared, oh god, you freaking are.
He approaches you and you take a few steps back, daring your heads to remain steady, forcing your eyes to level to his. You know you are indefinitely stronger than him but he always reduces you into an energyless slump like he always does. You know he doesn't harm you, you know he wouldn't, but you feel a strange need to drive all thoughts of defying him out of your mind.
His touches are electric; he doesn't need to trace around your vulnerable spots to be able to excite your currently overworking neurotransmitters into an ecstatic frenzy. His eyes consistently mindfuck you; there is nothing you wish more than him hurrying up and not leave you hanging. You know he could be fast -- and you do mean fast. The mind-blowing fast, the heartbeat-racing fast, the clock-stopping fast. But you know he is not in one of those moods this time; he's taking his time with you, he's teasing the hell out of you, he's messing up your body coordination and you wish he could just go on already because you're don't like not knowing what's coming up next.
He's playing with you and enjoying every second of it.
You try moaning his name, "Kazu..", but he silences you with his index finger. He doesn't want to hear anything and he doesn't need to vocally tell you that. His eyes are his weapon, and you're weak. Very, very weak.
His thumb strokes your lips, slowly caressing the outlines and driving you mad with hunger. You're hungry for his kisses, hungry for his careless ravages, hungry for him.
Unfortunately, you're slow. Way too slow.
One second your eyes are on his crooked nose, and the next you are staring at his hair, for his nose is now nuzzling against your neck, very, very close to your most vulnerable spot. Your fingers grabbed his hair by instinct - for some reason the way his nose tickles just the side of your collarbone leaves you panting for breath.
You gasp, you threw your head backwards, you pull him closer. More, you whisper.
Take me, you plea wordlessly. Now, you breathe your demand. You're a spoilt child, a privileged boy, a very loved being.
You heartbeat is racing, pulsating through your every vein, throbbing beneath your skin. You pull him again, trying to feel him, but he is a cold stone to your flaming fire.
You're not pleased.
You grab his head, forcing his eyes to meet yours again, and bend down to press your lips against his.
But he won't let you.
You are now lying on your back on a surface you assumed is your bed, and he climbs on top on you, ripping your shirts open. You try to do the same but he catches both your hands and pushes them down above your head. His legs are stroking yours, hips slightly moving back and front to caress your increasing hard dick, making you wish that there were no fabrics separating both of you.
You wish your hands were free. You want them to be free.
You wiggle. You struggle. You fight.
He won't let you.
He kisses your lips, tracing his lips slowly down to your neck.
You moan. He licks.
You grunt. He bites.
You whimper. His tongue meet yours.
He won't let you have it your way.
His hands liberate yours, and he moves down slowly, tasting your body as he goes.
Your hands are free but you are frozen.
He doesn't need to speak but you know what he wants.
He wants you. His way. And wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Wouldn't tolerate your resistance. Wouldn't stand your stubbornness.
You give in.
He unbuckles you, and you tell him "unfair" with your eyes.
He smirks, rises up and moves forward.
Do it, he replies. You are thrilled.
You tear his shirt, you kiss his shoulder, you feel his body.
He is still a stone. But you're aroused.
You suck his neck as hard as possible. You probably will leave bruises but you know you won't be happy unless you feel his entire body racing with lust like yours.
You wrap him around with your arms. You ravage his beautiful skin with your hands. You press his body against yours.
He decides that enough is enough.
He goes down, bending towards your exposed dick, taking it in.
Your hands suddenly find themselves grasping at every available surface.
You're not high yet, you protest.
You're not playing fair, you object.
You're not supposed to make me come before I get to taste you fully. Shit, you're reaching there.
Don't. He didn't look up.
Wait. He continues working on it.
Hang on. He goes faster.
Your grip tighten. Your breaths get shorter. Your heartbeat races an ungodly speed.
He is good, really good. Kazu..
He's a master. Kazuya.
He's god, he's undefeatable, he's invincible. Kazuya, you...
He's making you -
You can't control it -
It's inevitable -
Wait, no -
You grip harder -
Harder -
You scream.
And woke up to see someone pulling the curtains open, flashing blinding sunrise rays to your eyes.
"Wake up already." Nakamaru's stern voice buzzing around your ears.
You look around, finding yourself very disappointed that it isn't dark and there are only two of you in the room.
"Where's Kame?" You pretend that he wasn't invading your dreams, giving you a blowjob that result in earth-shattering orgasms.
"Left. He has to negotiate a drama role for winter."
Lucky, you thought.
"You know, from the way you screamed, I thought you were having sex in your dreams."
He is right.
And you're never spilling the details out. Especially not to Nakamaru.
"What if Kame was here, and he heard you screaming like that? Gosh Akanishi, stop watching porn that involve blonde girls before you sleep next time."
If only he knew the truth.
Thanks for reading, it's a oneshot I did within an hour because I was that inspired and bored. Hope you enjoyed it!