dinohouse | [Mushverse: For Genta and Takeru]

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[Mushverse: For Genta and Takeru]

We've done a fair amount of research since Hiromu accidentally ran into the Vaglass agent that looks just like me, and what we've found out has been disconcerting to say the least. Troubling enough, especially where a certain previous Sentai team is concerned, that it's back to undercover for me. I need to make contact with my best bet at finding out what's going on there, and the best way to do that is to place me back into class at Amanogawa, so I have an excuse to go to Genta's sushi cart.

Of course, for the first two days the cart is dark and folded up, unmanned. I worry that something's happened to him, until the day he shows up as usual, welcoming the few customers that have time.

I sidle up to the counter while his attention is focused on a dark haired boy with a cat perched on his shoulders. Well, it takes all kinds.

"Salut, Genta."

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He jerks under me, and I smile. "Let us work together," I say playfully. I re-balance myself over him and begin to follow the path of my fingers with my mouth.

The taste of his skin is, as always, an epiphany. I suck, stroke, and lick my way down from his beautiful, distracting neck until I reach the skin over his hip bones.

He is all edges down here, all lean muscle and bone, no softness, no spare flesh. He is perfection.

He is Genta. Were he to have three penises and a green bottom, I anticipate I would still find him perfection, and sexually appealing. It would, however, make certain logistics much more complex.

I am quite grateful that he has but one, as I do not need to fear an imbalance of attention. I lick gently up the front of him, relishing the salty-sweet taste.

He kisses his way down my body, along my neck, over my chest, taking his time, practically worshiping me.

He makes me feel appealing, despite my too thin frame, despite my sparse, lithe muscles. He makes me feel like the most amazingly sexual being on this earth.

He makes me feel perfect.

I reach my hands above my head when his mouth reaches my hips, vaguely wishing for a bed like I had in France, with a wire frame headboard. Easy to grasp and hold onto. Futons are better for the spine, but... there is something about an easily grippable headboard...

So I grab at the pillow beneath my head, as well as I can with my hands injured as they are. And I lift my hips slightly upwards as I gasp, silently asking for more...

He clutches at the pillow, though it must be awkward with his hands bandaged. I hope it does not pain him overmuch.

My hands warm on his hips, I lick up his length again, flirting my tongue briefly around the groove on the underside of the head.

I nibble very lightly at the very edge of the flare of the head, then wet my tongue properly once more and flick it across the slit. He tastes most wonderful. Salty-sweet, aroused.

My Genta.

In another context, his actions would be teasing, and I might beg him to stop, to take me into his mouth and drive me wild.

But right now, after everything, I'm savoring every small moment. Each little flick of his tongue, each gentle nip of his teeth. I'm practically vibrating with the intensity of it all.

My toes curl against the blanket beneath us, and my breaths have become little more than shallow little pants.

I lick my lips, gazing down at him. "Take-chan..."

His voice is throaty, low, and he breathes quickly. I look up at him, meeting his eyes. His pupils have dilated, and I find I must take a long, slow breath myself to control my reaction. Most pleasant.

"Aa," I say gravely. I run my hands lightly over his hips, his thighs, then do it again, more strongly, then once more, even more strongly.

I settle myself against him, my hands on his hips, and carefully, slowly, swallow him whole. He fits perfectly inside my mouth, as always, the top of the head pressing against the top of my throat.

He takes me into his mouth, and it's like the first time all over again, the rush of joy, the jolt of pleasure, the complete awe that he, my Take-chan, is not only willing do such a thing, but finds enjoyment in it himself.

I grip a little more tightly to the pillow, my back arching slightly away from the bed in my effort to keep my hips still for him. My head falls back as a low more takes me.

The taste of him is a delight in itself. Were it not for his reactions, I would be most taken with it, but his sound he has made...

I shift an inch or so, to relieve the pressure which causes my own erection to brush somewhat painfully against the sheet, then I place my hands underneath his buttocks. If he wishes to arch his hips, then I will assist. That this will result in him moving further down my throat, one of my favourite parts of this, is merely a bonus.

My preferences matter, yes, but this is about Genta.

Focusing on Genta in itself is arousing for me. He is so fascinating.

I suppose, logically speaking, this can be for both of us simultaneously.

I flatten my hands across his behind, holding him firmly, assisting him in thrusting upwards into my mouth. I enjoy the trust inherent in such a gesture very much.

The taste of him, the smell of him, fills my senses, and I find myself humming in pleasure around him even as I focus on performing a particular trick with my tongue.

His mouth around me, his hands beneath me, I can't help but move my hips. Not jerking or forced, just a slow, even rocking motion. His mouth is warm and welcoming, and I crave it. As much as I crave all of him.

I tremble, a jolt of pleasure traveling from my dick to the small of my back, and then up my spine, right to the nape of my neck, making the hair there stand on end.

We've done this before. Many time before, in sundry variations. But this time is unique. This time I...

This time isn't just about the pleasure, about giving each other pleasure. It's not just about love either, or trust. Or mutual respect.

No, there's something much deeper happening here, something that shakes me to my core.

And it's still just his mouth around me. It's not... not...

"Take-chan," my voice is raspy and thick, and I look down at him, barely able to focus on him.

Unable to focus on anything else.

"Please I..." I lick my lips, and swallow, trying and failing to still my hips. "I want you inside me."

He utters his version of my name. That which I would allow from no other, enjoy from no other.

I force my eyes to open, and I gaze up at his, tongue still working at him. It would be difficult to stop were I to will it. I do not will it...

Perhaps now I will it.

Not without regret, I allow his erection to fall from my lips, then I reach over to the topmost drawer next to the bed. We have performed this act with minimal assistance before, him in me or the reverse, but I wish to be extremely careful with him on this occasion. I wish to prepare him properly.

Even though I asked for it, I still make a soft sad little sound when his mouth slides off me. I compose myself a bit, and shift a little, moving so that he can reach the bedside table more easily.

There are always those butterfly flutters low in my stomach before we make love. No real fear of pain, since I know, even when he's in a rougher mood or we don't have a lot of time for prep, that he will take care of me, or I him, but just...

Excited nervous butterflies, they showed up the first time we kissed, and continue to make themselves known whenever we're intimate.

Sometimes just when he smiles at me from across the room.

He is so needy. It is endearing, and arousing, that he is willing to be so vulnerable with me.

So open, so willing to live much of his life where those who matter to him can see. I cannot be as open, but I wish to improve myself in this regard. I have much to learn from him.

I open the small bottle, and pour a generous amount onto my fingers.

"You do me honour, Genta," I say softly, reverently, as I stroke his opening with utmost gentleness. "Much honour."

I twitch a little at the brush of his fingers, my natural energy preventing me from properly staying still pretty much ever. Even at a time like now, when we are relearning each other, when we are relearning trust and acceptance.

I smile at him, at his words. I don't know about 'honor', but I do love him more than I ever thought I could love someone. And I always knew I was able to love rather a lot. Already, and always, loved him rather a lot.

I breathe evenly when he slides a finger inside, doing my best to relax past the initial resistance. I keep my eyes on him, on his face, wanting to see whatever he's feeling.

He wishes to bounce.

I am immediately, briefly, assailed with a memory. When I was small, I once viewed a children's television program courtesy of Jii which had a striped tiger in it. It was difficult to not remark upon the resemblance between said tiger, this 'Tigger', and Genta.

I liked the tiger.

Back to the present.

He breathes carefully, evenly, smiling, as I slide first one finger inside him and then another. He is tight, as always, and my erection twitches at the mere hint of the thought of entering him.

I get up on my knees, fingers moving carefully inside him, and lean down to capture his lips. I add a third finger.

He looks at me curiously for a moment, and I wonder what he's thinking. Sometimes I wish I could get a narration of his thought processes; I'm sure it'd be fascinating.

The moment passes and then he's back with me again, away from his thoughts, and a second finger joins the first, spreading me wider, pressing in deeper.

He moves, leaning over me, and kisses me as he slides a third finger inside me. I moan softly into his mouth, bringing my hands up to grip at his hair, kneading, tugging gently. I lift my hips, coaxing his fingers in deeper.

Now Take-chan, now, I'm ready. Please...

Bracing myself with a hand on the sheet next to his slim shoulders, I suck gently on that full lower lip before disengaging.

I move deftly back, run a hand down the centre of his chest lightly, lovingly, then encircle his erection. I grip my own at the same time, and move forward. I touch the head against his hole, gasp a little, then focus.

Inserting myself with the utmost care, I cannot repress a shudder when the head slips inside the ring of muscle. He is so tight, so warm. He grips me so pleasingly.

I'm panting, vibrating with anticipation, when he moves closer. I'm actually more interested in the hand he has on his own dick than the hand he has wrapped around mine.

I watch that hand as he moves closer to me, leaning over me, but the moment his dick brushes against me my gaze flicks up to his face, watching as he presses forward.

I have to bite my lip to keep quiet, because just that initial movement makes me want to groan, to beg him for more. To take me, claim me as his, as he has so many times before.

But I can be good. This moment is about so much more. More than any other intimate act we've experienced together. This is trust between us, repaired and growing stronger than it ever has been before.

So I simply groan as he enters me, lips parting in a breathless little gasp, and move my hands so they can grip at his shoulders, gently coaxing.

"Take-chan..."

He bites his lip; then takes my shoulders.

I am deeply involved, overwhelmed by the sensations of him, but smiling at him comes easily. This is an important matter. Reconnecting with him. Finding the pleasure of our bodies, together.

Important matters can still be joyful, and were I unable to smile at my Genta then this would be problematic indeed.

"My heart," I say softly, hoarsely. I roll my hips experimentally.

I gasp again as his hips cautiously roll, this time actually drawing breath. I grip a little more tightly to his shoulders, not a wince of pain, not at all, simply holding onto him.

I nod at his words, smiling at him. "Yours." I emphasize, so he doesn't lose the importance of his own statement.

With my hands and my hips I coax him closer, draw him deeper, panting softly as he slides further inside me.

We belong like this. Connected.

Edited 2013-01-26 00:36 (UTC)

He is hot, slick, and almost unbearably tight. We work together as always, to increase our connection, to increase the depth.

I gaze into his eyes as I sink into him to the fullest extent.

"Yours."

...and that near breaks me, both laughter and tears. I refrain from either, but it is difficult.

I nod, acknowledging his addition, his love. "As I am yours," I manage, then I do manage a short laugh at the arousal thickening my voice.

Mm.

The sweet need building in the base of my spine demands that I move, that I continue to move. I surrender to it, gasp, and also surrender to the need to drop forward and bury my face in the side of his neck.

His words are thick and low, and then he laughs. Not a lot, just a brief single sound, but it makes a shiver travel through my spine.

Makes my heart feel like it's dancing.

He moves, and then presses his face to my neck. I wrap my arms around him, one hand resting over the back of his head, the other pressing between his shoulder blades, holding him close.

We start to move together, and it's slow. It probably needs to be slow, at least at first. I need it to be slow, and I think he needs it too.

I can feel every fraction of his movements inside me. Pulling back, pressing forward. Can feel the angle shift slightly here and there, especially when I move my own hips...

Then suddenly there's that familiar jolt of pleasure, and I grip a little more tightly to his hair, a sharp tremble running through me. I tip my head back and gasp softly, eyes closed and lips quivering.

His arms come up to embrace me, hold me close. We are entwined, connected, joined. I push into him, pull back, breathe. I do it again. Again, with increased speed, increased involuntary desperation; release in reach.

My breath is his scent; my sight is his skin; my pleasure is from him. All from him.

All for him.

He trembles, head arching back, and I know that his pleasure mirrors mine. I kiss a path up the side of his throat and find his lips.

I keep moving with him in such a way as to make that jolt of pleasure come again and again. And I can feel his pleasure building too. Being like this together is always special, always love.

But especially this time. After so much.

I never want to leave him.

I open my eyes again, and it takes me a second to bring him into focus. When I do I slide my hands up over his back, through his hair, and down slightly to cup his face in my hands.

I bring our foreheads together, as the pace of our hips increases. I look into his eyes, holding his gaze.

My voice is thick and heavy, deeper than usual. Deep as it gets when I'm really and truly serious. "Don't you ever go where I can't follow you."

If you fall out of love with me, if you decide you need someone else, if your duty drives us apart... don't you ever keep me from fighting at your side.

Edited 2013-02-09 04:26 (UTC)

Sight is difficult. I trust him with this, trust him with my vulnerability as I trust no other. It is all the sweeter as he also comes undone, also sinks further into vulnerability.

I did not understand strength in vulnerability, before him.

It was difficult enough to understand fighting alongside others. And yet, when he first appeared as ShinkenGold... when he first joined us, fighting as a group... That day, the two of us fought together as though we had been working as one for years.

He slides fingers through my hair, touches his forehead to mine. I force my eyes to focus as the need builds, the need for both release and for him.

He has greater coherency than I would have expected. I must work on that.

However, his words are important. I let him see the sadness in my eyes, the regret, then I nod as I once more roll my hips. "I will not, my heart."

If it can be avoided. And that is the heartache of promises such as these, but if promises were easy there would be no point in the making.

There is sadness in his eyes, open and raw, and I know he's dropped a wall for me. Not that I can't usually see beyond his walls, sense what's going on behind them, but it's meaningful, right now, that he dropping this one for me.

He nods, and makes a promise to me, and I offer him a small, serious smile before he rolls his hips again.

And then I'm back in the moment, back with the pleasure. Breathing hard and vibrating from him. I move my hands back into his hair, so I can grip again, hopefully not too hard.

"Take-chan." I gasp out his name, my head falling back, neck exposed to him, vulnerable.

Everything is white hot, the heat of his presence spreading through my skin down into my core.

I sweat, I pant.

I soak up his fire.

I lean on one hand, and reach the other down to him. I know he does not require it.

However, I do.

He speaks my name; the name that is only his. Only from his lips. I murmur his. A prayer, a promise. Love.

Always love.

I come undone.

[Mushverse: For Genta and Takeru]

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