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Title: spoken images and imagined words
fandom: World of Darkness (Mage: The Awakening)
square: dirty talk
word count: 963
summary: After a moment, he leans closer and keeps talking, still calm and even, telling you in graphic detail what he intends to do to you if you tease him again like you did tonight.
content notes: no standard notes apply.
Afterward, Sullivan lets you go and you breathe, slowly, both coming down from the haze that was clouding your mind and trying to catch your breath, trying to center yourself again. Casually, he leans back in bed, arms folded behind his head, careful to leave space between him and you, to not try to touch you: he knows what you prefer by now, perhaps even better than you do. You aren't used to this, not at all.
It should bother you - and it does, in the logical part of your mind that's slowly filtering back - that this has become something of a routine, that he knows you so well and that you keep coming back even though you keep telling yourself that you won't, that this time would be the last indulgence. It should bother you, and it had before, more than it does now. It's rather unsettling, and you try not to examine it too closely.
Sullivan is silent for once, which you are grateful for, and you can tell by the pattern of his breathing that he isn't asleep. Odd, for him, that he isn't talking, but it's a comfortable silence, one that you like-and wish that he would practice far more often, both like this and normally-, and one that he breaks when he finally does speak.
"If you tease me like that again," he says, low, very even and matter-of-fact. "Then I will turn you over my knee and hold you there,"
You can feel yourself blush, brightly, before you immediately concentrate and force it down, quickly opening your eyes. Sullivan is still casually lounging, and the expression on his face is reminiscent of a predatory cat - and you, you suppose, are the bird that he's toying with.
After a moment, he leans closer and keeps talking, still calm and even, telling you in graphic detail what he intends to do to you if you tease him again like you did tonight, down to describing how your skin would redden beneath his hand as he spanks you until you squirm.
You're torn between listening - because as embarrassed as you are to be hearing this, something in you is fascinated-and kicking him until he stops talking. You know in the back of your mind that using the safeword that Sullivan had you pick and reminds you of its existence every time is an option, but you aren't certain that you want to do that, either. This isn't unbearable, only embarrassing, and part of that is how you're reacting to it.
"Then I'd put you on your knees," Sullivan leans in a little more, and while your instinct is to squirm away, you make yourself hold still, though he's fairly leaning over you by now. "With your wrists behind your back, and have you hold them there while I have your mouth." he doesn't try to touch you, but comes very close, his hand resting on the pillow besides your head. "I might take my pleasure like that, first, and then give you yours with my fingers and tongue, if you only teased me a little. Or maybe I'd drag it out a little more, take that tight little arse of yours first, until you're squirming."
You wrap the strands of your magic around you, concentrate, force yourself not to blush and to keep your breathing even, and you can tell that Sullivan is very much enjoying himself, his normally-faded accent strengthening ever so slightly and coming out again as he speaks. You force yourself to stay still and not squirm, and ignore the heat between your thighs.
His voice changes subtly as he speaks again. "But if you teased me as much as you did today..." and his expression changes as you watch from the self-satisfied cat-smile to even more of a smirk. "First, I would have you cast, and hold, two spells on yourself. One to increase your sensitivity, as we did before, and one that would ensure that you wouldn't be able to come, no matter what I did to you. And then a blindfold, to further ensure that you would feel...everything."
He doesn't try to touch you, and the logical part of your mind is irritated all over again that he can make you want like this, even when he doesn't touch you or try to touch you.
"And only then, once you are squirming and mindless with sensation, completely lost and letting go, then, and only then, once you forget yourself completely and ask, nicely, then I will give you your pleasure."
He traces a finger up the inside of your thigh, the barest ghost of a touch, but that's enough for you to be lost, biting down the sharp breath as pleasure overwhelms you. Afterward, he leans back, where he was, cat-smiling again, only this time it is a smug, satisfied smile, as if he was the cat that ate the canary.
"You liked that, didn't you?"
Irritably, you kick him rather than answering his question- you don't trust your voice enough to tell him to be quiet without stuttering, and it makes you more irritated to have to admit to yourself, much less to him, that he was right, especially since you shouldn't even be wasting time with this entanglement. You can hear the thump as he hits the floor and his muffled cry of surprise and pain: while he's getting up, you slide out of bed on the other side, grab your clothes and dress quickly and efficiently.
You look back at him for a moment as he stands up. "You will have to catch me first," you say, evenly, pleased that you manage not to stammer, before you turn and hurry out his bedroom door.
fandom: World of Darkness (Mage: The Awakening)
square: dirty talk
word count: 963
summary: After a moment, he leans closer and keeps talking, still calm and even, telling you in graphic detail what he intends to do to you if you tease him again like you did tonight.
content notes: no standard notes apply.
Afterward, Sullivan lets you go and you breathe, slowly, both coming down from the haze that was clouding your mind and trying to catch your breath, trying to center yourself again. Casually, he leans back in bed, arms folded behind his head, careful to leave space between him and you, to not try to touch you: he knows what you prefer by now, perhaps even better than you do. You aren't used to this, not at all.
It should bother you - and it does, in the logical part of your mind that's slowly filtering back - that this has become something of a routine, that he knows you so well and that you keep coming back even though you keep telling yourself that you won't, that this time would be the last indulgence. It should bother you, and it had before, more than it does now. It's rather unsettling, and you try not to examine it too closely.
Sullivan is silent for once, which you are grateful for, and you can tell by the pattern of his breathing that he isn't asleep. Odd, for him, that he isn't talking, but it's a comfortable silence, one that you like-and wish that he would practice far more often, both like this and normally-, and one that he breaks when he finally does speak.
"If you tease me like that again," he says, low, very even and matter-of-fact. "Then I will turn you over my knee and hold you there,"
You can feel yourself blush, brightly, before you immediately concentrate and force it down, quickly opening your eyes. Sullivan is still casually lounging, and the expression on his face is reminiscent of a predatory cat - and you, you suppose, are the bird that he's toying with.
After a moment, he leans closer and keeps talking, still calm and even, telling you in graphic detail what he intends to do to you if you tease him again like you did tonight, down to describing how your skin would redden beneath his hand as he spanks you until you squirm.
You're torn between listening - because as embarrassed as you are to be hearing this, something in you is fascinated-and kicking him until he stops talking. You know in the back of your mind that using the safeword that Sullivan had you pick and reminds you of its existence every time is an option, but you aren't certain that you want to do that, either. This isn't unbearable, only embarrassing, and part of that is how you're reacting to it.
"Then I'd put you on your knees," Sullivan leans in a little more, and while your instinct is to squirm away, you make yourself hold still, though he's fairly leaning over you by now. "With your wrists behind your back, and have you hold them there while I have your mouth." he doesn't try to touch you, but comes very close, his hand resting on the pillow besides your head. "I might take my pleasure like that, first, and then give you yours with my fingers and tongue, if you only teased me a little. Or maybe I'd drag it out a little more, take that tight little arse of yours first, until you're squirming."
You wrap the strands of your magic around you, concentrate, force yourself not to blush and to keep your breathing even, and you can tell that Sullivan is very much enjoying himself, his normally-faded accent strengthening ever so slightly and coming out again as he speaks. You force yourself to stay still and not squirm, and ignore the heat between your thighs.
His voice changes subtly as he speaks again. "But if you teased me as much as you did today..." and his expression changes as you watch from the self-satisfied cat-smile to even more of a smirk. "First, I would have you cast, and hold, two spells on yourself. One to increase your sensitivity, as we did before, and one that would ensure that you wouldn't be able to come, no matter what I did to you. And then a blindfold, to further ensure that you would feel...everything."
He doesn't try to touch you, and the logical part of your mind is irritated all over again that he can make you want like this, even when he doesn't touch you or try to touch you.
"And only then, once you are squirming and mindless with sensation, completely lost and letting go, then, and only then, once you forget yourself completely and ask, nicely, then I will give you your pleasure."
He traces a finger up the inside of your thigh, the barest ghost of a touch, but that's enough for you to be lost, biting down the sharp breath as pleasure overwhelms you. Afterward, he leans back, where he was, cat-smiling again, only this time it is a smug, satisfied smile, as if he was the cat that ate the canary.
"You liked that, didn't you?"
Irritably, you kick him rather than answering his question- you don't trust your voice enough to tell him to be quiet without stuttering, and it makes you more irritated to have to admit to yourself, much less to him, that he was right, especially since you shouldn't even be wasting time with this entanglement. You can hear the thump as he hits the floor and his muffled cry of surprise and pain: while he's getting up, you slide out of bed on the other side, grab your clothes and dress quickly and efficiently.
You look back at him for a moment as he stands up. "You will have to catch me first," you say, evenly, pleased that you manage not to stammer, before you turn and hurry out his bedroom door.
