WIP: hers, now (he surrenders) part ii
a/n: closing out valentines day with a preview from my most recent WIP, part ii of my one shot hers, now (he surrenders)
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The winter sun bathed the attic bedroom in soft, blue light. Outside, the highlands of Drakr were covered in a fresh layer of powdery snow. At last, the wind had stopped howling through the valley, carving scalloped shapes and great rogue waves into the snow banks. The branches of the pine trees had stilled their dancing—the many thousand tight pirouettes of dark green needles coming to rest—and in the early morning light, the snow that had collected upon them glistened.
Here, their shared, charmed life had been so beautiful—full of such joy—that even a year and a half since their first summer, Julian and Aredhel had lingered. They loved their little house, and the well outside of it, and the gently sloping hills that led to the town below… and the privacy that it won them, keeping the rest of the town at a distance.
Outside, the valley is quiet, but their bedroom is decidedly not.
A bead of sweat rose on Julian’s forehead, then coalesced. The droplet’s weight guided it down the crease of Julian’s brow, around the outer orbit of his eye, along his clenched jaw and then past it, sliding down the taut column of his throat. Sweating—or weeping. His cheeks were wet and shining, flushed red. His curls were messed and disordered from all Aredhel’s insistent tugging and fisting. The black leather of his body harness stood out in sharp relief against his pink skin, and his biceps were twitching, only half-holding him up on his elbows with his ass raised, back arched. His whole body shook each time Aredhel thrust into him, her hips smacking audibly against his in the quiet house, driving the phallus deeper inside of him and shepherding him closer and closer to oblivion.
In the mirror in front of him, Julian could see it all. He could see his own face—how ruined he already looked! How swept off and away, how utterly lost—his grasp of himself growing weaker and weaker until Julian felt he was nothing but lightning and trembling, small bursts of breathless pleasure coiling warm between his legs. His cock swung beneath him, swollen, leaking… throbbing, untouched.
Above him: Aredhel, her face drawn in concentration, her eyes following the clench of his hands in the sheets, the look on his face. He could see the way her stomach and thighs were tightened, clenched around the other end of the same toy that she was driving (with relentless, martial rhythm) inside of him.
Julian could see all this—if he would only pick up his head.
It hung low between his shoulders, his chin dipped towards his collar. Each time Aredhel drove the toy into him he groaned; a wretched gasp sounded from him each time she pulled away, the ridged head of the toy dragging inside of him.
But that wouldn’t do; Aredhel wanted to see him. After all, that was what they had agreed upon. That was why they were knelt in front of the mirror to begin with. And so it was not only a disappointment to Aredhel, that Julian was hanging his head so low: it qualified as a kind of disobedience.
Her hips stilled, the toy half-buried inside of Julian. Her fingers fell to the small of his back and followed the curve of his spine upwards, increasing in pressure as they brushed over his leather body harness, down his neck. She sank her fingers into the thick, shining red curls at the base of Julian’s skull, and once her fist was full of them she closed her fingers and yanked upwards.
Julian cried out in surprise and delight; the tug to his hair sent a thrill running through him, left his cock twitching between his legs. He opened his eyes to find Aredhel staring at him in the mirror, a challenge in her gaze.
He took a deep breath, held Aredhel’s eyes, then roughly tugged his head back downwards.
It was a slight movement—play-pretend resistance, not the real thing—but it was an invitation, a request to handle him more roughly. Aredhel took in the blush in his cheeks, and the set of his brow. All the while, Julian grinned at her cheekily from behind his damp curls, breathing hard, awaiting reprisal.
At first she only considered him, her eyes impassive, her lip twitching. Then, without warning, she tugged his hair a second time, pulling his head back far enough to expose the full column of his throat, stretching pale and lovely in the reflection before them. Julian’s skin jumped over his muscles, his throat tightening around a whine, the blush on his cheeks deepening.
“Hey. What did I tell you?”Aredhel reprimanded him. “Head up. And eyes open, on me.”
