Trust
P.O.V. One
He's so nervous, but so excited. Race kisses him eagerly, and he kisses back, as they drop onto the mattress, limbs intertwined. Blink has fooled around a bit before, but Race is far more experienced; and anyway, Race is different than the boys Blink's been with. Race is exciting. And Blink... Blink knows Race has a plan for the night, but had only a vague idea what it entails, and the thought of what he doesn't know sent shivers down his spine, makes him even more excited than thinking about what he does know.
Race works Blink's shirt off and his fingers are cool against Blink's chest, but it feels nice and everywhere Race touches seems to tingle, sending pure pleasure through Blink's body.
One last kiss, then, "You're sure it's okay?"
Blink nods eagerly, blond hair falling in his eye, not sure what to say. But as Race reaches into the drawer of the bedside table, and Blink actually sees the handcuffs for the first time, he almost changes his mind. But Race senses his nerves, and kisses him gently. "If you don't want--"
"I do," Blink decides. "I'm just... I trust you, so it's okay."
Another gentle kiss. "I'd never hurt you." Kiss. "Let me know if you're uncomfortable, okay?"
"I will."
"Good." A final gentle kiss against his lips, and then Race's demeanor changes so strikingly that Blink can barely believe it's the same person. Race sits up straight, the loving smile twisting slightly into a smug, knowing, and almost unbelievably sexy smirk. Race reaches for Blink's wrists, cuffs them together, and Blink marvels at how smooth and cold the metal is. It makes him shiver a little, and he strains against them just slightly, feeling how real they are.
He looks up into Race's eyes, searching them with his own, curious and nervous. It's up to Race now, he thinks--everything is. He realizes the handcuffs are more for symbolism than restraint, a show that Race is the dominant one, entirely in charge, deciding what they'll do. They make Blink feel compelled to obey, to do exactly as Race wants him to--while Race does whatever he pleases, for himself or for Blink. Blink waits eagerly for Race to move and he wonders which way Race will turn; to his own pleasure or to his partner's.
Though as Race's hands close over Blink's wrists, moving him slightly, Blink feels like it's the same thing. Like if Race chooses to use him, he'll submit eagerly; Race's pleasure is his own now. He never realized before feeling the metal on his wrists how deeply he wants to please, how much he craves someone's attention, how badly he needs someone to trust.
Because that's what it is: he trusts Race so completely that he can submit himself, he can lie there half-naked, restrained and exposed, and enjoy it. Because he trusts Race.
Race guides his cuffed wrists up to the top of the bed, curls his fingers around the edge of the mattress. It feels a little awkward because he has to turn his hands over slightly to do it, but once he adjusts his grip, it's okay. Race is smirking again. "You're going to hold on there," he tells Blink. "No matter what."
Blink nods, eager and excited. Race's voice... It doesn't sound like he's giving an order exactly, but Blink certainly wouldn't want to disobey it.
Race runs a finger down the middle of his naked chest and it tingles. He digs his fingers into the mattress, and Race straddles his chest, reaches up to run his thumb across Blink's cheekbones, his lips, and kisses him again. Blink raises his chin slightly to kiss back, but Race pulls away quicker than he'd like. Blink feels a little unsatisfied, but Race reaches over to the drawer again. Blink turns his head to see what he's taking out, but can't quite.
Whatever it is, Race sets it down next to him, reaches for Blink's face again, but this time he slides a thumb under the elastic that holds Blink's eyepatch in place and begins to slide it off. Blink tenses, shocked and a little hurt, and starts to move and speak. "Race, stop, don't--"
Race uses his free arm to put a firm hand on Blink's bicep, holding it where it was. It's not so strong it would actually stop Blink, but the pressure is enough to make him pause. "Trust me," Race says.
Blink settles. "I do. Just... It's ugly, Race."
But Race slides the eyepatch off anyway and Blink feels a little humiliated. And not in a fun way. He hates his dead eye, the mangled flesh around it; it's disgusting and he knows it. But Race kisses him again. "Nothing about you is ugly," he says firmly, his voice commanding again--and Blink almost believes him.
Race picks up whatever he set down again, and now Blink can see; it's a blindfold. Another kiss--Race likes kissing him, Blink likes being kissed--and then he slides the blindfold into place. It covers Blink's dead eye, much to his relief; but it covers his good eye too.
His world is now dark, totally. He has no control over it, and can't even see; he has to place his full trust in Race. He has to submit to Race.
Dear God, he thinks. Just the feeling of anticipation is amazing, and Race hasn't done anything physical yet.
Race rolls off of him, places a quick kiss on his shoulder and lets himself off the bed. Blink can feel the weight shift and hears Race walking away slightly; he bites back nerves and tells himself that he trusts Race. He can't quite hear what Race is doing, but what feels like an eternity later, footsteps come closer and he feels Race's hand against his chest, outlining every muscle gently, almost ticklingly. Blink tenses his muscles in response, as Race traces out the lines of his pecs, his collar bone, his abs, and Blink is grateful he takes such care of his body--it seems to make Race happy. And the way Racetrack is gently touching him, teasing, refusing to do anything more than simply running a finger over his skin is both agonizing and amazing. He wants something more, desperately wishes Race would touch him somewhere else, but doesn't quite dare ask for it. He's not sure Race wants him to talk, and anyway, this is all under Race's control.
Race slowly traces his finger back up Blink's torso, but this time relents and runs his finger tantalizingly close to one of Blink's nipples, around in a circle, and Blink thinks he might actually whimper if Race doesn't stop teasing him--and then abruptly he feels something else. Race leans down, puts his lips to the same nipple he was teasing, and sucks hard. Blink moans and arches his back, digs his fingers into the mattress and tries to keep still. Race's mouth is warm feels amazing, and Blink is rapidly losing his ability to think of anything other than those gorgeous lips.
And then it's gone, but replaced almost instantly with a flash of freezing cold. Blink yelps out loud, startled, and feels ice on his nipple. As Race gently rubs it against him, he whimpers; it's cold but it feels so damn erotic. And Race alternates between the ice and his tongue, alternates nipples, and Blink finds himself squirming, to the point where Race uses a knee on his thigh to hold him in place. But the forced stillness is hot too, and it really just makes him realize how much his jeans are feeling more and more restrictive.
Blink really has no idea how much time is passing, his world is dark and consists only of sensations and sound but he gathers the ice is melting. His chest is wet, water pooling on the center, which Race dips a finger in, uses to draw a line of cool water down his torso, and runs his damp finger across the flesh where the elastic of Blink's boxers shows. Blink inhales sharply, anticipating, wondering, and after what feels like an eternity of teasing, Race undoes the button on his jeans, unzips the fly, and pulls them down and off.
Blink moans.
Race reaches for his dick through his boxers and Blink moans more loudly than he ever has in bed before. Race licks his thumb and runs it up the underside of Blink's shaft--which isn't really the underside at the moment. Another moan, so loud that Blink is actually embarrassed.
And loud enough to cause Race to stop. He leaves Blink panting for a moment and comments, "Jesus, Blink; you need a gag or what?"
"Sorry--sorry--" Blink pants, but Race has begun to move again. He slides off the bed, Blink can hear fabric rustling, and then feels Race's weight over him--and his skin against him. Race is straddling him again, further up, feels Race leaning over above him. In his mind's eye he pictures it and what an amazing picture it is. Race over top of him, hand probably pressed to the wall to support himself, torso leaning forward, knees on either side of Blink's face--which left his cock...
Blink opens his mouth a little bit and sure enough, pressing against his lips is something warm and fleshy. "Consider it a gag," Race comments, and Blink would laugh if he wasn't so otherwise occupied. When Blink's blood is pounding in his veins so loudly he can't even think, Race is still making jokes. Incredible.
Blink opens his mouth further, swirls his tongue around in a circle, around the head. Race doesn't moan, but Blink suspects he's breathing heavily. And after a minute, Race begins to move slightly, thrusting a little, and Blink opens his mouth wider to accommodate it. And then he's sure Race is breathing hard--panting, even--as he begins to thrust harder, absolutely in control, using Blink's mouth.
For his part, Blink has never had someone so deep in his mouth before, something he was hesitant about. But it's out of his control, and Race seems to know exactly what he's doing. He does hit Blink's gag reflex once, and Blink gets a jolt of panic, but Race feels him convulse slightly and backs off a bit. Not much, but he's careful.
The panic recedes after a moment, but now Blink is worried slightly. He can feel Race in his mouth, how fast and hard he's going, he's not that far from finishing off. Blink was hesitant about how deeply he'd go when going down on boys; he was more nervous about having boys come in his mouth. He's tried it, but it always makes him gag and he spits whether he planned to or not, usually while having a coughing fit. But he has no idea what Race plans to do--and if Race comes in his mouth, well, he won't have much of a choice but to try and swallow. He just hopes Race won't find it disgusting or be angry if he can't manage it.
But Race abruptly stops, and moves off of Blink, and there's a pause and Blink hears Race catch his breath, feels Race lying on the bed next to him. He almost asks if Race is okay, but Race kisses his cheek lightly. "You're so..." he breaths. "I almost lost my concentration there." Race dips his head slightly to suck at Blink's neck. "Jesus, you're so hot."
And as Blink begins to smile Race is on top of him again, kissing his lips, sucking at his neck, biting his ear, his shoulder... Blink supposes he'll be covered in hickies, but loves it, loves the attention. Race, he realizes, is trying map his body--figure out what gets reactions where. What makes him moan, what makes him gasp, what makes him writhe. Blink can't believe this, how Race is doing so much for him. He can't believe someone as amazing as Race would care about him or what he feels. And Race is so experienced, so amazing, everywhere he touches Blink tingles and Blink isn't sure how much he can take. But it's not up to him; he'll take what Race gives and be grateful for it.
He already is grateful for it, and wonders how he got here, how he got to be so lucky. He doesn't deserve this kind of treatment, has no idea why Race would want him, just some kind of one eyed freak.
And finally, Race slips Blink's boxers down his legs, off, and runs his hands tantalizingly slowly back up them, almost tickling his inner thigh, and finally grips his shaft, and Blink groans again. Race pauses for a second, and Blink wonders why; but hears the drawer open. Race mutters something under his breath, it sounds like an irritated curse word, and Blink is nervous. Especially when Race moves his hand.
But then it's back, and Blink feels a cool, slippery liquid on it. It slides easily up and down, generating friction and heat and Blink feels the muscles in his legs spasm slightly. There's no way, he thinks, that this could possibly feel better.
And then Race wraps his lips around Blink's cock, and Blink very nearly passes out. He's never felt anything so intense before. Racetrack is amazing. The combination of his hand and his mouth are overwhelming and Blink is moaning again, writhing, trying to control himself but failing utterly. But if Race minds his squirming he doesn't say anything and doesn't stop.
It crashes through him like a wave. Blink doesn't even have time to wonder if he should warn Race, but Race doesn't even flinch; Blink comes and Race makes sure he's feeling as much as he can for as long as he can, and it isn't until Blink is relaxed on the bed, panting heavily and barely able to think, let alone move, that Race gets off of him. Blink knows he's on the other side of the room, probably cleaning up; that's where Race keeps his tissues and his trashcan.
By the time Race returns, the sweat beads that cover Blink's body have cooled, and he notices that his arms are starting to ache a little.
Race returns and sits on the edge of the bed, puts a hand on Blink's chest and just rests there. Neither one speaks. Neither one moves. And finally Race leans over and kisses Blink's neck. "So fucking sexy," he mumbles into Blink's skin. "God, I gotta... Blink," he mumbles, "I--" He stops, kisses Blink hard on the lips, and then nudges his shoulder. "Roll over."
Blink does so and readjusts his grip on the mattress. "Blink, you a virgin?" Race asks, opening the drawer again.
"No--well--kinda."
"You don't sound so sure there."
Blink hears something tear, and then realizes it's got to be a condom wrapper, and takes a deep breath. "I, uh, I've been pretty far. But never actually... ya know..."
"Mmm." Race kisses the back of his neck. "Would it be okay if I...?"
"You can do whatever you want." And Blink means it. Race could probably have cut off his arm and been thanked for it. But instead Race massages his back for a minute, and he relaxes. He's nervous and jittery, but Race kisses him, mumbles in his ear that it'll be okay, that it'll feel good, and Blink believes him.
"You're sure it's okay?" Race asks.
"I want you," Blink answers.
Race kisses his neck again and there's a pause, and then Blink feels a smooth, cool liquid against him, Race's fingers applying it, gently. He shudders slightly, anticipating, and feels the mattress shift as Race changes position, feels Race's body so close to his, and then a slight pressure that grows, and it begins to hurt, but abruptly changes as his muscles begin to loosen. And then he feels Race inside him, gently, not too far, but pleasure starts to build up where it had hurt before. "Ohhh Jesus," Race mumbles, and presses a little further, and Blink gasps with both shock and pleasure. This is unlike anything he's felt before.
Race slowly slips further inside him, and Blink hears how loud he's moaning and is embarrassed, but can't force himself to stop. This is amazing; he only hopes it's half as amazing for Race as it is for him. He knows he's getting hard again but with his sight cut off, everything he feels seems that much more intense. Race begins to withdraw, and in steady, slow motions thrusts again, and Blink can tell how careful and gentle he's being. But the motions begin to get faster, and harder, and Blink can feel just how hard Race is inside him.
When Race thrusts all the way in, Blink feels himself let go again, red spots dancing behind his eyelid. And a minute later he feels Race do the same, panting and grinding his hips as close to Blink's body as he can, and Race actually lets out a long, pleasure filled moan.
They're both breathing hard when Race finally rolls off of him, sits still on the side of the bed for a minute, panting, then stands to walk across the room and clean up. Blink is aware that his sheet is now disgustingly sticky; he hopes Race has an extra set, is pretty sure he does and can loan him one if he doesn't. But he's unsure if he should move or not, and instead waits.
Race returns to him, kisses his shoulder, nudges him to roll over and Blink feels Race with the tissue, getting his lover cleaned up. Blink is still sweating and breathing heavily but can't believe how... how sweet that really is. He can't believe any of this. He knows how lucky his is.
It feels like an eternity later when Race reaches up and slides the blindfold off. Blink blinks a few times, adjusting to the light, and stares at Race's face. Race is still slightly flushed, and sweating, and his hair is deliciously messed up. He's smiling and he's naked and he's gorgeous.
Blink almost forgets he doesn't have his eyepatch on, until he realizes Race is looking at his dead eye and turns his head away slightly, trying to hide it. "Race, can I have my eyepatch?" he pleads. "Please?"
Race reaches over to where he left it on the table, slides it back into place--Blink's arms are still above his head, though his hands are relaxed and hanging off the bed now. Blink feels better with it in place, the familiar feeling of it and all.
Race kisses him. "I mean it," he says. "Nothing about you is ugly. And anyone who said it was doesn't deserve you." He looks away then, and Blink thinks he looks a little embarrassed, and he digs around in the drawer for a minute and finally produces a small key. Blink sits up slightly, holds out his wrists and Race unlocks them, sets the cuffs aside, and kisses his wrists gently where there are red marks from the metal digging into his skin. Blink smiles at the feeling and Race takes his hands, entwines their fingers.
They lie on the bed side by side for a minute, just staring at each other, still recovering. Finally Race moves closer, lays his head on his lover's shoulder and Blink hesitantly puts an arm around him. He likes this closeness, too, but never figured Race for cuddling after sex.
It's a long time before either of them speaks. At last, Race kisses Blink's neck and half-murmurs into his ear, "You're amazing."
Blink shakes his head a little. "I've never felt anything like that before," he confesses. "It was..." He trails off.
"You want to spend the night?" Race asks.
"Mmm." Blink pulls Race closer to him and they share a long, comfortable kiss. "Nothing would make me happier," he promises, and a few hours and a long conversation later, they fall asleep, still in each other's arms.