. all you have's your axe to grind . closed

[shikomizue]

Who: Takasugi Shinsuke (shikomizue) & "Friends" | Closed
What: Catch All For April-May-June
When: Over April / May / June
Where: Mostly Wyver, some Thesa and Olympia
Warning(s): alcohol + graphic violence + bang + will edit as needed

[ closed starters in the comments ]

Comments

[shikomizue]

[Waiting, shoulders hunched forward, Takasugi anticipates either a hurried cleanse - perhaps involving nails, to pry the supposed grime from him - or an indulgence. Solomon falls into the later, and the man under his hands sighs.

Stills.

Calmness settles over the water, the only ripples emanating from Solomon's thighs and what errant droplets fall back to the surface. Takasugi lets his body move in gentle sways, acquiescing to every nudge and grip. Muscles taut, and a back covered in scars, the massage is captivating.

The only improvement would be the taste of tobacco, smoke hanging heavy in the humid room.

He hasn't been made pliant, but his body is relaxed. When the kiss presses into his hair, Takasugi wants nothing more than to lean back into the man. Afflict Solomon with all of his weight, the heaviness he'd coaxed into his shoulders with his own hands.

He isn't one for restraint.

Back Takasugi sinks, head dragging down shoulder and chest until his shoulder bumps something - between hips - that stops him in his descent. He twists, disrupting the water suddenly enough to splash some over the side. Now on his stomach, he can run a finger up that unfortunate erection.]

You tell me.

Seems like you might have enjoyed it more.

[semblant]

[Focus dissipates; the goal was to clean him, but he falls into a rut of massaging him -- working his muscles with the butt of both palms, feeling out his scars like mini-maps. Like braille. He maintains an upright position, only slouching as Takasugi more...or less..inches his way out of that massage. Slips downward. He's frowning.]

Where are you going?

[A quiet demand -- questi-demand. Rhetorical, as he can't be going very far. His trajectory is pretty straight forward, at least.]

This isn't a pool, you know.

[Sick burn -- or whatever. He's about to shift his legs to accommodate whatever gymnastics he's trying to do, except...

Except that he's just being a shit disturber. There's a twitch, a bodily one in defiance of his intrusive fingers. His own are quick to grab at his wrists, try to peel him off. He'd slap those hands if the water wasn't acting as a buffer.]

Don't be vulgar.

[Even though he's the one sporting an erection, uh.]

It's a normal display, when were like this. Don't make it worse.

[(〃￣ω￣〃ゞ]

[shikomizue]

[Accepting arousal as an inevitable occurrence when they're... stripped down? Touching one another? Simply spending time together? is more vulgar than flushing and excusing oneself. Some find allure in innocence, in the taboo, but Takasugi's more attracted to Solomon's defiance.

The hands wrapped around his wrists meet subtle resistance; he twists his hand, skirting knuckles along bulge in a tentative test of the man's grip.] You took your time touching me...

[An accusation: That Solomon enjoyed the map of scars painted across Takasugi's back. Hands that had roamed his body still cling to him, rebuffing his redirection. Though, he'd made the approach with intent to get back on track.] Lean back.

[He'll leave Solomon's erection be, one hand anchoring on the man's thigh and the other spreading a wet trail up abdomen to press against sternum. Encouraging his host to recline, supine and bared - an indulgence waiting to be taken.

Should Solomon acquiesce, Takasugi's hands wander. Along sides, circling navel, brushing sensitive chest. All the way up to jawline, thumb brushing over chin in an aimless effort to tilt the man's head, before he abandons it to sink his attention lower. To hip, mouth joining his hands in kneading the flesh of waist and thigh.]

[semblant]

You were dirty.

[A fast rebuttal, glare settling on some tiny print on the nearest shampoo bottle. Pointed defiance all around, though additional contact makes his thighs twitch reactively, something made all the more noticeable when the water's disturbed by it. As much as he'd like to wrap this up, he's somehow found himself yielding to that command; a fast excuse about Takasugi being a complaint enough bath partner. What's more obvious, is his inability to fight the man and his own desires regarding him at the same time.

So he leans back, automatically rendering himself more vulnerable -- offering. Even were he nude, a fight would be nonexistent. He's holding a breath through that exploration, teeth nearly giving chase as fingers retreat from his chin, but his head ultimately tilts back against tile. It's natural that something like this would happen, that he'd find himself fighting the confines of his undies. Maybe that's why he'd taken the extra step to cling to whatever decency available, but there aren't any preemptive measures to take when dealing with Takasugi.

A leg rises, the bottom of his foot bracing against the tub's edge.]

We should be rinsing off.

[Far from renouncing him, a hand moves to trace a shoulder, kneading over lean muscle in appreciation -- something likely meant to be a form of rejection. A push thawed into exploratory touch, retracing healed skin.]

We'll prune.

[His gripes are mellowing out, at least.]

[shikomizue]

[Water-logged or not, Solomon's fingers press a enticing path into Takasugi's shoulder. He shrugs into it, offering nothing more than a glance - a glare - spared to the man's gripes. They're bullshit, and they both know it.

Still dripping, Takasugi's hair tickles pale skin, droplets of water running paths along the man's thighs as he moves along them, from hip to the water's edge. The leg framing his head isn't ignored - with more bared, there's more for him to sink his teeth into. Lips drag along sensitive underside until he clamps down.

A single ring of red marking the spot before he draws away, and jerks wet underwear down enough to reveal the arousal beneath. It's mostly underwater, only the tip rippling against the surface. An annoying position to give head from, but Takasugi's mouth hangs open anyway.

He brings his forearm across his face to smear his hair from his view, and takes Solomon's cock into his mouth. Sucking water and air in at once, he presses his tongue against the slit before pressing further down. His face submerges, a slow descent he doesn't dwell on before rising, water dripping from his chin.

Speeding up would just splash and make a mess, so he'll maintain this taunting pace.]

[semblant]

[While Solomon's resisted (or tried to) all things suggestive or otherwise explicit during their time in here, there's very little physical protest when Takasugi presses on; the bite to his thigh earns a twitch of disapproval -- surprise? A combination of both, though it's something he's earned for all those meals most probably. A grunt marks that exposure, feigned displeasure abundant.]

You're taking this too f--

[The combination of his mouth and the augmented sensation of a beejer with the bathwater special has him shutting up in a hurry -- audibly sucking in a breath and holding it, shifting his weight in place. An elbow has him braced against the side of the tub, his opposite hand finds a place atop Takasugi's head. The hair there's gripped, but there isn't a lot of weight to speak for. He's not trying to drown him, and Takasugi's doing a fine job of getting him riled up.]

Ha. [An audible release of breath. A leg shifts, hooking over his shoulder. Fingers rake down the back of his head, slicking his hair back and kneading the base of his skull.] You don't listen.

[While arching his back, trying to somehow offer more of himself in this awkward ass tub...]

[shikomizue]

[That the ring of swollen pink will have vanished by the time Takasugi draws away occurred to him the moment he'd felt the resistance of muscle under his teeth. Even if he'd torn skin, there wouldn't be a damn thing to show for it within moments.

So he'll leave his mark in another way.

A sweet memory of defiance, the pink that's faded from Solomon's thighs returning to his cheeks or his cock when it crosses his mind.

Maybe that's too ambitious for such a simple carnal act, but with pale hands winding in his hair and a leg levied upon his shoulder, Takasugi can feel every ripple of muscle his tongue spreads through that slender body.

He offers those reactions an answer - a groan, deep voice and a grind of teeth along the shaft of the cock in his mouth. Twisting his jaw brings Solomon's arousal deeper, his face submerging to take the entire thing. Purely for the image of it.

When he slides back up, his eye flicks upwards, fixed on Solomon's lips.

A loud slurp, breath and water swallowed all at once, emblazons the lewdness of his position. Water flecks the back of Takasugi's throat and he suppresses a cough, continuing a more shallow bob of his head. His tongue makes up for the lack of depth, swirling in consistent, languorous circles around the tip of the other man's cock.

He never listens - everything he ever offers is on his own terms, this act of servitude (possessiveness. dominance.) is no exception.]

[semblant]

[It isn't even like Takasugi's doing too much, he doesn't need to do much in this particular circumstance and it feels like overkill; his leg ceaselessly twitches, slipping between his upper-back and nape with a similar unending chorus of those pathetic mewling sounds. More vocal than usual, though that doesn't say much on principle of him always sounding off when things are going well...

But he'll sometimes fight it. Pointlessly.

The bathroom's echoey and Solomon's caved quickly. His fingers twist at damp locks, weighing Takasugi down as if he's not doing a well enough job all on his own. Of course he is, of course Solomon's just a greedy piece of shit. Their eyes lock for all of a moment (or at least he thinks they do) and he'll draw his fuller lip into his mouth, muting himself as color spreads from cheek to cheek.

Not that any of that fake modest shit lasts. His head tilts back and he'll release that breath, his lip with a groan, hips twisting slightly to accommodate his tongue, adjusting to suit him...something like that.

T-11 seconds till he ejaculates without warning...10 9 8 7 6 5 4...]

[shikomizue]

[Were the water calmer, Takasugi thinks he'd be able to see Solomon's voice reverberate in it. The dulcet tone seems caught in the steam filling the room - an echo that grows louder instead of fading away.

Because Solomon's making his approval known at a constant rate, an inverse of his typical onslaught of complaints.

Takasugi doesn't have a preference between the two. Sensual or dissatisfied, both are all for him. Solomon's not the only avaricious party - Takasugi wants their fleeting eye contact to endure. He's not the one who looks away, he doesn't falter even when Solomon's body twists and breaks their gaze.

A moment earlier, the weight on his head would have caused a rebuttal in the form of teeth. Now, it's just a part of how desperate Solomon's body is to slide into his mouth. Takasugi answers with tongue, circling the edge of his head.

Until he tastes something bitter. Cum spills along his tongue and teeth, slipping down his throat after mingling with the spit and water that slip through his lips. With a - intentional - slurp, he lets Solomon's cock slip from his mouth.

Jaw open wide, he licks his teeth clean before settling into a smug grin - wider, the ache on the corners of his lips earnest, than his typical derisive smirk. It's fleeting, fading into the usual haughtiness he wears as he palms the half-hard dick he left behind.]

I'm done.

[He says, intending to stand and step out of the bath. 'Clean enough,' or something. But he doesn't move. Post-coital without even coming, Takasugi idly caresses whatever manscaping Solomon's got going on down there. He's staring...

Trying to meet Solomon's eye again.]