|Current music:||"Unison" b. Bjork|
Djimon Hounsou and Jason Flemyng—December 17th
Looking over the letter one last time, Djimon clutches the paper with tense fingers. Reads.
When I come home this evening, I will be extremely in need of your affection. You will not however give in to me. I want you to be prudish, cold and deny me. I want you to pretend as if you are not in the mood
even though you might be and I want you to do your best to fend off my irritable advances. House slippers and a robe are optional, in the gym and working out is also optional.
Mmm. One more thing. When I ask you why dinner isn't on the table you can slap me once and hard. Everything that happens afterwards will ensure you a good, intense night of dominance.
Your Big Sir
Pleased with the scenario, Djimon folds the note and slips it into a secure brown envelope. He gives it to the bike messenger with orders to deliver before noon. Djimon pays the man well, with a bigger tip than his agency ever gives the over-worked guy.
His agent, comes out of the office and hands a parcel to the bike messenger as well before ushering a very, heated Djimon Hounsou into his office.
Jason reads and then rereads the notes with incredulity written upon his face. 'Dammit, I thought that we were not going to switch mid-scene anymore. '
Setting the note aside, he makes up his mind to have dinner delivered a half hour after Djimon's arrival. If his lover wants snarky non-responsiveness, then he is going to receive it in abundance. Now, if only his erection would die down.
On his way home, Djimon is amped. It's been a long day and the drive is only making his anxiousness worse. Almost certain, Jason will fold submissively to his dominance; Djimon isn't even considering a plan B if Jason were to decide he wanted to steal control. He won't, but as long as the edge is there, Djimon wants to take and he hopes Jason won't make it too difficult.
By the time he pulls into the driveway, his cock is rock hard from contemplating hundreds of ways to tame his prissy, fussy, fuckable mate.
He slams the door and calls out for his lover, with an almost feral shout, demanding and rampant. "Jason!"
'Bloody hell love, loud enough?' Jason squirms on the couch, flicking the remote control continuously, wearing an old pair of sweats and a bulky flannel.
"In the living room...dear."
Moving into the living room like a panther on the prowl, Djimon spots his lover relaxing... seemingly unaware of the precarious situation he's in.
Joining Jason, Djimon slides his arm along the spine of the couch. "And how was your day?" His voice is husky and his attention is focused, but Jason seems more intent on watching television.
"Hmmmm all right," Jason murmurs, ignoring the hand touching him as he flips through channels sporadically, not really watching.
His fingers move slowly to the curve of Jason's shoulder, fitting around the strong muscle as Djimon moves closer. "Did you go out and do anything today?"
"Hmmm took care of a few things with my agent via the phone, but nothing else really. Have something on your mind love?" Jason looks over once, distracted, before turning back to watch the screen.
Jason is playing his role to the tee as Djimon scoots in closer, moves his fingers into the curls at the nape of Jason's neck. "Yeah, wondering why you haven't turned off the television and given my kiss already."
"Would you believe I am just not in the mood," Jason lets out an irritated yawn, giving a half-mixed signal as he snuggles close.
"Excuse me?" Djimon balks, leaning away from Jason with his eyebrows raised. Taking Jason's chin between his fingers, Djimon looks into a casual blue gaze. "You...you're not in the mood? Well, I am. I'm out all day and I want what's mine, when I come home!"
"You want? You want! What about what I want? Oh, have you decided to become full time master now or for just a few short enough hours? And don't you dare touch me by the chin like that again...master."
Oh, now that was vicious. Thrown for a moment, Djimon can feel his temperature flare in light of the truth. Sliding his fingers from Jason's chin around to the back of his neck, Djimon leans in and snarls, "This isn't about mastery, you pruddish, frigid man. You're not totally mine yet, and as much as you may think you want me to be your Master twenty-four seven-- it's obvious that you couldn't behave for more than two minutes without trying to bend me."
"What I think doesn't seem to be important Djimon...sir and I do recall several instances, many, that you wanted to be under my dominion." At that, Jason stands up and walks toward the kitchen, fuming. Knowing it is a scene, does not put him in better a mood.
Immediately following behind, Djimon is amped by the pseudo-fire of confrontation. Watching the sway of Jason's ass in those tight sweats, Djimon snips back. "Right, about the wanting to be under your dominion when afterwards you can't wait to be give up control... and you complain about me switching?"
Looking around the kitchen, Djimon notes that there is nothing on the stove; nothing on the table and nothing remotely warm. "Jesus, you little slut! You mean to tell me that you've been home and haven't fixed dinner?!"
It happens before he can stop it; a single slap across Djimon's cheek. "Dinner... Dinner, I happened to have ordered out today. Your favorite...sir."
Hissing as the force of the blow causes his head to turn, Djimon shivers with the excitement. The pain upon his cheek is delicious, going straight to his cock and spiking outwards. Grabbing Jason by the shoulders, Djimon yanks his lover close, bringing lips down upon cherry ones. "Fuck that shit, I think I'll just eat you instead."
Eyes’ pleading for Djimon to take control or be done with it seems to have worked. Relaxing visibly, but still feeling feisty, Jason nips his beloved’s bottom lip roughly. Not enough to draw blood, but still...
An unrepentant whimper as his cock hardens.
Jason's mock attempts at struggling do nothing but stimulate Djimon further. His tongue finds no such resistance against Jason's, rather the opposite as they coil and flicker. Sucking Jason's tongue into his mouth, Djimon releases his hold upon Jason's arms in exchange for holding the cheeks of his fiancé’s ass instead, just as tightly and just as possessively.
"Dinner...here...soon, love you," Jason lets out between kisses, voice full or irritation, love, and lust in equal parts as he feels Djimon's erection against his own.
Thumbs hooking around the waistband of Jason's sweatpants, Djimon pulls the soft cotton down in order to get at the naked flesh of Jason's buttocks. Filling each of his palms, Djimon gasps, “Appetizer...you're...my snack."
"Going a bit caveman on me today?" Not bothered by Djimon's inability to talk, it's over rated anyway, Jason muses to himself and lets Djimon massage and grind against him.
Tracing the line of Jason's throat as he presses his erection against a similar hardness, Djimon finds just the right spot to suckle. Intent on making a deep red bruise, he concentrates on that one spot while Jason moans and hisses, hot against his ear.
Finally, Jason comes up for air. "What, what do you want from me today? I am not kidding sir..." He's not as, once he goes down, he's staying down or Djimon can reap the consequences.
Hearing the irritation in Jason's voice causes Djimon to shake with some edge of irritation, some edge of emotion. Lifting the back of Jason's shirt up, Djimon can't get to enough hard, silken skin without stepping away and that he doesn't want to do.
Meeting his lover's questioning eyes, he answers, "Would you think less of me if I told you that I just want to fuck? …That at the moment, I want and I want you to as well. I want something primal, responsive and I want to see that will of yours, whether you choose to go down or not."
"Well, a simple I want to fuck would have sufficed, rather than the note which I thought would be a prelude to a scene, dearest," Jason winks. Though a touch of irritation shows, he cannot hide his humor or relief that this was what it was all about and despite their need for play and scenes it was also about their need for each other.
Shoving Jason up against the nearest wall, Djimon nips Jason's chin. "Well you could have been in the mood for something else and I wanted you to be feisty! I wanted a bit of a row as you Brits put it."
Squirming around so that he faces the wall instead, "Well then, I suggest you find the lube you big brute," Jason purrs with a bit of mockery; just enough to inflame both Djimon's temper and arousal alike.
Djimon drops his forehead to Jason's shoulder as he inhales his lover's scent. Keeping one hand high on Jason's back, Djimon uses the other to tease Jason's hole. "Or you'll deny me booty, eh? You'll tell me that I can't have you with just a bit of spit in my palm...that licking out your tight hole until you cry with want isn't nearly enough?"
Jason wants to remind him what happen last time they went quick and hard. It wasn't that long ago; he should remember and this is just a semi formal role-play after all. Clenching cheeks, the teasing fingers are gently trapped.
"I think that is what I am saying, yes," Jason replies hiding the small grin from his lover.
Saving grace of saving graces--the doorbell chimes and it is all Djimon can do to pull away. Grinning madly he stares at his disheveled fiancé. "You do know that I love it when you're snippy, uppity sexy thing you. Get naked and pour some wine and I'll get the food...and the edible lube. I was serious about eating you for dinner."
"Yes, right. Of course," Jason laughs, already stripping as Djimon begins to walk away. Wine poured and ready, for added effect, he seats himself in Djimon's favorite kitchen chair with glass in hand and an impertinent grin.
Djimon takes long quick strides to the door, opening it to the familiar logo of his favorite Indian restaurant. Overpaying the man by at least fifty dollars, he slams the door before the deliveryman can even open his mouth about change. With the take-out bag in hand, he makes a quick stop to the hall bathroom to retrieve the butterscotch lube.
He considers himself very prompt and thorough as he returns to the kitchen, but when he spies Jason seated nude at the table, he is definitely late with words.
"You are going to start catching flies if your mouth hangs open for much longer dear."
Getting up quickly, setting glass down next to its twin and the accompanying bottle, Jason walks over naked and hard to help put the take out on the table.
Djimon can't seize Jason fast enough. As soon as his hands are free, Djimon places them around Jason's waist. Drawing his body flush up against Jason's nakedness, Djimon bends his mouth to a pale throat, beginning his feast there.
Kissing Djimon is always better than any food prepared, any wine poured, or anything else for that matter and Jason gives in completely when Djimon moves up from his throat area toward his lips.
"So hungry. Downright anxious for you," Djimon groans, lifting Jason onto the table in between the Indian food and the centerpiece. “Had to wait all day. You didn't cook, bet you didn't clean the house either," he jokes as he fits his hips between Jason's thighs.
"Of course I did, but you only have eyes for me so you haven't noticed yet." Legs wrap around trapping Djimon as ankles cross.
Kissing, caressing broad shoulders with both his fingers and his tongue, Djimon rocks into the hard erection prodding his stomach. Admittedly, there isn't much he notices save for his lover's willing open form, the command of Jason's heels around his thighs.
"Fuck first, my lazy house-husband, then we'll discuss all of the things I'll want from you...” He teases.
"You do realize that if we fuck here, that the food most likely very well be knocked off? Are-you-prepared-for-such-an-event-love?" Jason writhes and squirms, punctuating each word of the last sentence with a thrust upward.
Djimon stops and pulls back slightly as if to ponder the situation. Jason's right of course.
Nodding, he slides his palms underneath Jason's ass and lifts his lover off of the table. Lowering a very flustered Jason to the rug, Djimon asks," Is this better?"
Hands reach up to clasp at Djimon's neck loosely to pull him down for a kiss. They could take this to the bedroom, but why bother, Jason muses as their cocks grind against each other.
"Yeah, you saucy redhead you." Pulling his shirt over his head, Djimon is quick to get his fingers upon his belt. He unfastens it and tosses it to the ground with barely a moment to push his pants down before he dives down to steal a kiss.
Given a chance to breath, Jason takes the opportunity to roll over and present his as up with a backward shove. "Love you," he manages to breathe out in response and invitation.
"Love ya more." Reaching up to the table, Djimon snatches the bottle of lubricant down and flips the top open.
It takes too long and he has to have his hands away from Jason's skin for much too long, but once his cock is slick, Djimon returns his hands to their treasure. He sinks two long, slick fingers into Jason's eager body and reels from the delicious heat. "Somehow I thought you'd make it harder for me..." he hisses wickedly.
"Remember...slut here," Jason shoves against the invading fingers before pulling away. "Then again, maybe I should make you work harder," he adds, making a near believable attempt at getting away.
"Oh no. Hell no!" Djimon snaps, catching Jason before he can crawl off the carpet. Djimon's fingers grip his lover's hips firm and hard, dragging him back to the eager shaft just waiting to be sheathed. "We'll have none of that. You'll be an accommodating lover." And with one smooth, slow stroke, Djimon hisses with the glorious heat engulfing his sex.
Through hissing breaths, Jason pushes back slowly at first and by the time Djimon is completely inside; small mewling sounds begin pouring out of him. Rock hard himself, he reaches under to stroke slowly for sensation and not the need for release.
Jason's action don't go completely unnoticed to Djimon, but it feels entirely too good to withhold similar joy from Jason. Greedy with his own need, he bears down across Jason's back and pounds into the wringing heat of muscle and flesh, pumping hard and furious.
His hand is now trapped as Djimon drops his weight, but Jason's free one claws at the carpet in pleasure, nails scraping bits of fiber as he enjoys his lover's attentions.
"God! I'm lucky. So lucky!" His heart and hips pushing in unison, sound and powerful. Jason gives equally as strong, pushing back to meet every thrust. It'd the best kind of war and Djimon loves waging it for every electrical current of pleasure coursing through him.
"Ahhh oh my god, no, I am," Jason whimpers, turning his to kiss Djimon. Lips, teeth, tongue meld, almost becoming indistinguishable from each other.
As much as he wants to, Djimon can't maintain precious contact with his lover's mouth. Giving his lips to Jason's shoulder instead, Djimon sinks his teeth into the sweat-sheened flesh, tastes salt and lust and devotion. Giving the same, Djimon pushes into Jason with thrusts unafraid of ecstasy.
"Yesss," Jason calls out before attempting another kiss. Clenching tightly around Djimon's thrusting cock, he lets a small sigh out knowing that this is for as long as he wants.
Time isn't eternal and Djimon can feel it slipping through his fingers along with his control. His body is on automatic, crash and pounding of its own accord. "For me. Belonging to me," he growls pressing Jason flat to the floor.
There is no need to ask for permission; not now and Jason simply lets go after Djimon drops his full weight upon him. "God, I love you..."
Djimon would answer back in kind, would tell Jason that he is first and foremost in his heart, but he can't. His heart stops, his lungs shut down and gasping soundlessly, Djimon feels his orgasm strike him suddenly, harsh and something just as divine as love.
"Hmmmm, want to stay down here for a bit? Just sit naked on the floor and eat takeout," Jason jokes, half out of breath...and a touch hungry.
"Sure thing. I like the way you think Mr. Flemyng-Hounsou." Lying half atop Jason, Djimon draws his softening cock from his lover's body. He is in no mood to rush things. "We'll have to work on your being bitchy a bit more, but I think you'll make a lovely house-husband. Bringing my slippers and having tea ready for me when I get home."
"Well, I would hardly be considered bitchy if I did that every time you came home now would I?" eyes filled with content amusement, he wonders how much energy he would expend if he reached up for the food.
"I didn't say you had to be nice about it," he laughs, squeezing Jason's waist. "Besides, I'd love any reason to correct you, you do know that?"
A cheeky grin appears. "But of course, now hand me that first container...I'm starving."
Pausing to glare disapprovingly at Jason, Djimon can't suppress a grin. As he's told, he gets to his knees and retrieves the heavy bag, bringing it down to the floor. "Such a bossy, fiery tart you are."