"Lunch is ready." Would I feed him or let him feed himself? Should he kneel or sit? Should he call me Master, sir, or Mulder when we were acting sort of normal?
I grinned at the whirlwind of his thoughts and grabbed the lube from the end table as I approached him. Within reach of him, I slowly drizzled a thin trail of lube onto my middle finger, giving him a moment. Almost immediately, he remembered my instruction and stretched out his upper body on the table, bending his knees to lie flat. I nudged his feet apart, opening him to my satisfaction, and twisted my finger into his exposed hole. I probed, rubbing his inner walls and avoiding his prostate, until he shifted restlessly and made a small noise.
I pulled out. "Kneel on the pillow," I said, and I went to the kitchen to wash my hands.
As I approached on my return, I was pleased to see him fold his upper body over my chair, ass exposed and available. I carded his hair approvingly through my fingers and directed him to kneel up so I could sit. Piece by piece I fed him the meal he'd prepared. I let my thumb linger on his lips as he chewed. I fed myself as well.
His eyes stayed focused on mine as we ate. His hands rested where I'd put them on my thighs. I drank, sucking the liquid across my tongue and teeth to clear my palate. Then I drew in a mouthful and covered Krycek's mouth with my own.
He moaned attractively between swallows, opening eagerly under my mouth in hopes that my tongue would follow the fluid. It did as I licked along his lips and the sharp edges of his teeth. I drew back and slipped another morsel into his mouth.
His expression was so open. It beckoned me to submerge myself in him like a worm pool. He watched me, eyes searching for signs of approval or disapproval. I continued to feed him, looking on him kindly and letting my knees brush against his sides.
A few minutes later, I passed him more to drink in a kiss. He swallowed quickly, anxious to taste me instead. I agreed, preferring his flavor to the bland liquid. I wouldn't linger excessively, though -- not if I wanted to get anything else done today.
I fed him the rest of our meal with my hand on his neck, feeling the slide of muscle under skin as he swallowed. The fear that briefly appeared on his face morphed into vulnerable acquiescence as he submitted -- not to anything I was doing, but to the knowledge that I could, I might, stop him from swallowing or even breathing. He yielded to that awareness, and it was a beautiful, beautiful thing.
When the meal was finished, I drew him into another kiss. He leaned toward me willingly, paying no attention to the soft sting of his welts except to note that the faint burn meant my hands were on him.
I pulled him tight against me, hooking my feet around his thighs and kissing him like I would drink his soul through the skin separating our flesh.
He was ready to go.
I moved my mouth to his neck, and he panted into my shoulder, trembling eagerly as my hands crept down his back and drifted across his buttocks. I drew one hand to the front of him, grasping his erection. He moaned.
I pressed my teeth around the stretch of muscle from neck to shoulder and bit gently. Krycek groaned -- long, low, and primitive -- and pushed his cock into my hand helplessly. I resisted the urge to take that farther. Lifting my mouth from his wet flesh, I told him to stand. Shakily, he obeyed, bracing himself on the table.
He was beautiful nude. He cock was hard and flushed in my hand, a single shimmering drop of semen seeping from the tip. I put out my tongue and licked it off.
Krycek's knees buckled. Only the support of the table kept him up. He whimpered in a shuddering exhale. I licked him again just for the noise.
"Master?" he gasped.
"Can't stand...." I caught him as he crumpled and pulled him onto my lap so he sat across one thigh with my arm around his waist. I put my hand on his upper thigh and rubbed my thumb in little circles. I kissed the soft part of his throat and moved my hand to my groin, massaging my erection through the soft fleece.
Krycek's breath caught as my knuckles rubbed his leg, and he watched in fascination as I caressed the pole tenting my sweats. Curiosity tickled his brain.
"Maybe later," I said, denying the possibility of sating that curiosity now. With a final rub, I pushed him to his feet and stood. "Let's go build some shelves."
I left him on the couch with the instructions while I went for the lube and a handkerchief. I returned to the far side of the laid out materials. I hid a smirk at his flicker of disappointment.
"Where are we supposed to start?" I asked.
"With A, G, and H," he said. He dug into the bag of screws and assorted connectors on the coffee table. "And we need four of these and four of those...." I stepped over to rummage for parts with him, and he promptly dropped his knees to the floor and lay across the table, pert ass available for pleasure.
I tested his hole and added a little more lube. My fingers slid in easily, thumb pointed to the ceiling, causing Krycek to give a little gasp. I curled my fingers, pressing to the side, and rotated my wrist to rub my fingers across his prostate. He shuddered and pushed back. I moved just a little and let him work himself around me in tiny hitching jerks that might almost have been involuntary except for the desperation for stimulation I could feel driving him.
I pulled my fingers out and wiped them on the handkerchief. I took the connectors from his hand. "Come on," I said. His eyes were glazed over, but he followed obediently and held the parts as I told him to. I left to get a different screwdriver, and he was folded hopefully into a kneeling forward position. I entertained the thought of just slapping his exposed ass, but decided to save it for when he expected rather than hoped.
I leaned over as I passed him and slid one finger in, aimed unerringly for his prostate, bumped it, and withdrew. I used the handkerchief before continuing with the project.
I manufactured reasons for him to move to other locations and for myself to go and come back. I finger-fucked him twice more on the floor, over the coffee table, over the arm of the couch, the back of the couch next to the sofa table, the dining table, the kitchen counter. Never did I let him go more than five minutes without a finger or two in his ass. Sometimes I teased him, skirting the bundles of nerves surrounding the sensitive sphincter; sometimes I simply penetrated and withdrew, leaving him wanting; and sometimes I dallied, making him shake with arousal. When the shelves were all finally finished -- probably taking four times as long as it should have -- I put him over the back of the couch, letting him brace himself on the cushions, and worked my fingers in and out of him slowly, so slowly, dragging and twisting over his most sensitive internal tissue first, and then teasing around it until his arms threatened to give out.
"Scoot back a step," I instructed. His chest, instead of his waist, was now in contact with the leather. I reached between his thighs and cupped his balls. Krycek moaned, cock hanging heavy and ignored, hard for hours. I slipped my two fingers nearly all the way out, added a little lube for the first time in a while, and put my ring finger against the other two in a tight cluster at his entrance. I pushed just enough to make him aware of the presence. Then I gave a gentle tug on his balls. He realized what I wanted. It made him nervous, but not as nervous as he was excited.
He pressed back. I pushed forward with only enough impetus to breach the sphincter and let him complete the joining by pushing back against my hand. He rocked his hips slightly, adjusting to the stretch, and I twitched my fingers. He cried out, thighs quivering as he strained to stay on his feet.
"Master, please," he begged -- not for the first time, but with the most desperation. My body's demand echoed his entreaty; I'd been aching as long as he had. I ignored it.
"Please what, pet?"
"Please let me kneel."
That was a switch. I moved my hand from his balls to his hip and moved with him as we slowly eased to the floor. The change in position was punctuated with pauses (to be sure we were moving at the same pace) and a couple delays while he shivered through his reaction to the changing angles of my fingers inside him. Finally his forehead was cushioned by his hand and fingers on the floor, and his knees were spread obscenely wide, pulling his cheeks tight and open in welcome. I twisted my fingers a little, and he gasped and moaned from deep in his chest -- a sound that continued in an ebb and flow as I began to fuck my fingers in and out of him until he began whimpering.
Helplessly he surrendered to the wax and wane of sensation I inflicted on him, rising slightly and tilting his hips to meet the leisurely thrusts of my fingers. I continued until he simply slid to the ground, unable to hold even the kneeling position. He whimpered abject apologies, spreading his legs on either side of me. I pinned him down with my hand in the small of his back, forgave him, and ordered him to come as I fluttered against his prostate.
If he'd had any breath left, he would have screamed. Instead he writhed under my hand, bucking up onto my fingers with his hands groping for something to clench. His toes curled -- and his feet and knees, and his hips tried as he pulsed out his orgasm on the floor.
As his breath slowed, I pulled my cock out of my sweats and slid lengthwise into his deep crevice. The temptation to slide directly into his stretched and relaxed ass was hard to resist, but I did. I curled my hands under his shoulders and sank my teeth into the top of his shoulder. I bit deeper this time, and Krycek moaned in surrender, moving his head to the side to give me better access.
I thrust along the slick channel and bit until I drew sweet blood. Krycek squirmed under me, caught between lassitude, pain, renewed arousal, and confusion at that mix of feelings. Orgasm washed over me just as he realized he was getting turned on from being bitten until he bled.
I licked the red trickles from his skin as we lay lethargically on the floor. Most of my weight was on him, but I held myself up enough for him to breathe. When the bleeding stopped, I stood and made him stand as well so we could go sit on the couch. I cleaned up the semen on his back and both our bellies before we sat. I pulled him to sit in my lap between my spread thighs, tucking him against me. I held him in silence, letting my fingers drift over his skin. I kissed his temple and worked down to his mouth. He opened to me, relaxing into the comfort and familiarity of our kisses.