[FoF] Seven Days 03
Oct. 11th, 2018 06:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Seven Days
Characters: Bluestreak/Jazz
Universe: Flights of Fancy ‘verse, Harpyformers
Rating: M
Warnings: BDSM themes, Sexual Punishment, Orgasm Denial
Description: Perfectly behaved pets are boring pets, but Jazz might have bitten off more than he can chew when he disobeys Bluestreak.
Day Two
Jazz woke before Bluestreak on the second day, aching. The featherdown between his thighs was dry and sticky from lingering slick. Bluestreak breathed into the back of his neck, his warm exhales both tickling and arousing.
Jazz tried to extract himself before he could convince himself to linger in Bluestreak’s embrace. If he was caught, he just knew Bluestreak would torment him with pleasure he couldn’t have.
And he was right.
Before he could squirm free, Bluestreak wrapped an arm around him, hand plunging between his thighs. The heel of Bluestreak’s hand scrubbed over his antrum, teasing his nub. Jazz shuddered and moaned, melting into Bluestreak’s arms, head tossed back and throat bared.
Teeth skated over his featherdown. Bluestreak licked his claiming mark, tonguing the small divots of bit flesh. The flat planes of his fingers found the slick welling up in Jazz’s antrum, and liberally coated his nub with it. His palm slid over Jazz’s clit, again and again, in small circles his hips were eager to follow.
He would never admit to the whimper in his throat. Or the way he clutched Bluestreak’s arms, talons digging in, sharp pants hissing through his teeth. He wanted to come. He wanted to let that boiling pleasure bubble over until he shook in Bluestreak’s arms and rode the wild waves of ecstasy.
He gasped and arched. He gnawed his bottom lip until it was raw. His core skittered a few extra beats.
And then Bluestreak’s hand was gone and Jazz was left humping nothing, his groin aching and his body on fire, two beats away from that perfect crescendo. He whined, tried to roll over into the pillows, grind his throbbing nub on something, anything, but Bluestreak snatched him back, his arms trapping Jazz’s against his sides, his body against Bluestreak’s chest.
“No, flitterling,” he growled, and the command in his tone was enough to make Jazz clench and teeter on the edge of begging. “You’re not allowed to come, remember?”
“This isn’t fair!” Jazz blurted out before he could stop himself, his hips twisting in vain. “You didn’t say you were going to build me to the edge and then stop. It’s not the same thing.”
Bluestreak chuckled, low and menacing and every inch his carrier’s fledge. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it either. You’re the one who told me it didn’t count as punishment, right?”
Jazz growled a noise of frustration. “This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he said. He cursed himself for his foolishness.
Bluestreak pressed a kiss behind his ear and let him go. Though he didn’t immediately move, as if waiting to see if Jazz would try and seek out his own release.
“It’s a penalty to fit the crime,” Bluestreak said. His palm swept down Jazz’s side, briefly patting him on the rump. “It’s just a week, flitterling. Surely you can manage.”
“Of course I can,” Jazz sniffed, flicking his tail at Bluestreak, or at least the thicker third of it. His tail was a bit too long to twitch the whole thing. “It’s the principle of it.”
Bluestreak chuckled and climbed out of the nest, leaving Jazz to stew in his arousal. “You sound like you’ve been spending too much time with Carrier.”
“Please don’t talk about your parents right now.” Jazz grimaced.
Bluestreak only laughed harder and gave himself a quick wipe with a damp towel. “I’ll bring you back breakfast,” he said as he winked. “And I’m trusting you not to disobey while I’m gone.”
Jazz might have retorted with an impolite gesture he’d learned from Blurr.
Stubbornness was all that kept Jazz from reaching for a pillow. He sat up, crossed his legs, clutched his knees, and focused on the meditation exercises he’d been taught. He was the master of his body. He could control himself.
It was a mantra easily chanted, but not so easily obeyed.
Because holding back was easy when Bluestreak wanted a quick hug or a kiss. Not so much when Bluestreak came to him that night, delectable and eager, whispering sweet nothings and asking if his beautiful flitterling would put his mouth to use.
There were few things Jazz enjoyed more than watching Bluestreak come undone because of him. He loved the way Bluestreak tasted. Loved the sweet of his slick, the tangier bite of his spill. Loved how Bluestreak let go and gave himself to pleasure when Jazz put his mouth all over his master’s tender bits.
Jazz adored oral, and Bluestreak knew it. He especially adored being ordered to perform, the heavy weight of Bluestreak’s hand on his head, guiding him, encouraging him, subtle command in each press of his fingers.
He put his all into it. He licked and sucked and nibbled and caressed. He thought if he could please Bluestreak, his lover would forget all about that pesky punishment. He’d be so enraptured, so warm and happy from pleasure, Jazz would be forgiven in an instant.
So he licked Bluestreak until he was dripping and soppy and swollen with want. He sucked Bluestreak’s clava, tongue prodding at the slit, until it dribbled so much tangy pre-spill Jazz could slurp it up with a curl of his tongue. His face was smeared with fluids, the scent of Bluestreak surrounding him, and when Bluestreak finally came, it was down Jazz’s throat, hot and heavy spurts of his spill that painted Jazz’s tongue.
The scent of Bluestreak’s pleasure was dizzying. Jazz was hard and aching for it, his hips making unconscious grinds into the pillow beneath him, his thighs wet with his own slick. He wanted so badly for Bluestreak to grab him, to give him permission, to let him ease the ache in his groin. He’d surged so fast to the plateau, as if the past two days of denied orgasm had left him primed and ready.
He climbed up Bluestreak’s body and buried his lover’s face in kisses. He shared the taste of Bluestreak’s pleasure with him, and he rutted the heat of his clava against Bluestreak’s hip. Jazz squirmed with need, made urgent noises in his throat, went weak and pliant when Bluestreak finally grabbed him.
Yes, see how pretty he was? How obedient? Such a good little pet, wasn’t he?
Bluestreak nuzzled him. “Thank you,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Jazz’s neck, near his ear. “That was wonderful.”
And then he rolled and tucked Jazz into the cradle of his body, steadfastly ignoring the rigid clava dripping onto their nest, and the sweet scent of Jazz’s slick between his thighs. He ignored the heat of Jazz’s body, the way his ready-scent rose from him in waves, the way he trembled against Bluestreak.
He ignored it all without a blink, as if not once tempted.
“You are made of stone,” Jazz declared, petulant.
Bluestreak chuckled and rubbed the bottom of his chin over Jazz’s crest. “Go to sleep, flitterling. You’ve five more days.”
Jazz pouted, but it didn’t sway his master at all.
~
Characters: Bluestreak/Jazz
Universe: Flights of Fancy ‘verse, Harpyformers
Rating: M
Warnings: BDSM themes, Sexual Punishment, Orgasm Denial
Description: Perfectly behaved pets are boring pets, but Jazz might have bitten off more than he can chew when he disobeys Bluestreak.
Jazz woke before Bluestreak on the second day, aching. The featherdown between his thighs was dry and sticky from lingering slick. Bluestreak breathed into the back of his neck, his warm exhales both tickling and arousing.
Jazz tried to extract himself before he could convince himself to linger in Bluestreak’s embrace. If he was caught, he just knew Bluestreak would torment him with pleasure he couldn’t have.
And he was right.
Before he could squirm free, Bluestreak wrapped an arm around him, hand plunging between his thighs. The heel of Bluestreak’s hand scrubbed over his antrum, teasing his nub. Jazz shuddered and moaned, melting into Bluestreak’s arms, head tossed back and throat bared.
Teeth skated over his featherdown. Bluestreak licked his claiming mark, tonguing the small divots of bit flesh. The flat planes of his fingers found the slick welling up in Jazz’s antrum, and liberally coated his nub with it. His palm slid over Jazz’s clit, again and again, in small circles his hips were eager to follow.
He would never admit to the whimper in his throat. Or the way he clutched Bluestreak’s arms, talons digging in, sharp pants hissing through his teeth. He wanted to come. He wanted to let that boiling pleasure bubble over until he shook in Bluestreak’s arms and rode the wild waves of ecstasy.
He gasped and arched. He gnawed his bottom lip until it was raw. His core skittered a few extra beats.
And then Bluestreak’s hand was gone and Jazz was left humping nothing, his groin aching and his body on fire, two beats away from that perfect crescendo. He whined, tried to roll over into the pillows, grind his throbbing nub on something, anything, but Bluestreak snatched him back, his arms trapping Jazz’s against his sides, his body against Bluestreak’s chest.
“No, flitterling,” he growled, and the command in his tone was enough to make Jazz clench and teeter on the edge of begging. “You’re not allowed to come, remember?”
“This isn’t fair!” Jazz blurted out before he could stop himself, his hips twisting in vain. “You didn’t say you were going to build me to the edge and then stop. It’s not the same thing.”
Bluestreak chuckled, low and menacing and every inch his carrier’s fledge. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it either. You’re the one who told me it didn’t count as punishment, right?”
Jazz growled a noise of frustration. “This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he said. He cursed himself for his foolishness.
Bluestreak pressed a kiss behind his ear and let him go. Though he didn’t immediately move, as if waiting to see if Jazz would try and seek out his own release.
“It’s a penalty to fit the crime,” Bluestreak said. His palm swept down Jazz’s side, briefly patting him on the rump. “It’s just a week, flitterling. Surely you can manage.”
“Of course I can,” Jazz sniffed, flicking his tail at Bluestreak, or at least the thicker third of it. His tail was a bit too long to twitch the whole thing. “It’s the principle of it.”
Bluestreak chuckled and climbed out of the nest, leaving Jazz to stew in his arousal. “You sound like you’ve been spending too much time with Carrier.”
“Please don’t talk about your parents right now.” Jazz grimaced.
Bluestreak only laughed harder and gave himself a quick wipe with a damp towel. “I’ll bring you back breakfast,” he said as he winked. “And I’m trusting you not to disobey while I’m gone.”
Jazz might have retorted with an impolite gesture he’d learned from Blurr.
Stubbornness was all that kept Jazz from reaching for a pillow. He sat up, crossed his legs, clutched his knees, and focused on the meditation exercises he’d been taught. He was the master of his body. He could control himself.
It was a mantra easily chanted, but not so easily obeyed.
Because holding back was easy when Bluestreak wanted a quick hug or a kiss. Not so much when Bluestreak came to him that night, delectable and eager, whispering sweet nothings and asking if his beautiful flitterling would put his mouth to use.
There were few things Jazz enjoyed more than watching Bluestreak come undone because of him. He loved the way Bluestreak tasted. Loved the sweet of his slick, the tangier bite of his spill. Loved how Bluestreak let go and gave himself to pleasure when Jazz put his mouth all over his master’s tender bits.
Jazz adored oral, and Bluestreak knew it. He especially adored being ordered to perform, the heavy weight of Bluestreak’s hand on his head, guiding him, encouraging him, subtle command in each press of his fingers.
He put his all into it. He licked and sucked and nibbled and caressed. He thought if he could please Bluestreak, his lover would forget all about that pesky punishment. He’d be so enraptured, so warm and happy from pleasure, Jazz would be forgiven in an instant.
So he licked Bluestreak until he was dripping and soppy and swollen with want. He sucked Bluestreak’s clava, tongue prodding at the slit, until it dribbled so much tangy pre-spill Jazz could slurp it up with a curl of his tongue. His face was smeared with fluids, the scent of Bluestreak surrounding him, and when Bluestreak finally came, it was down Jazz’s throat, hot and heavy spurts of his spill that painted Jazz’s tongue.
The scent of Bluestreak’s pleasure was dizzying. Jazz was hard and aching for it, his hips making unconscious grinds into the pillow beneath him, his thighs wet with his own slick. He wanted so badly for Bluestreak to grab him, to give him permission, to let him ease the ache in his groin. He’d surged so fast to the plateau, as if the past two days of denied orgasm had left him primed and ready.
He climbed up Bluestreak’s body and buried his lover’s face in kisses. He shared the taste of Bluestreak’s pleasure with him, and he rutted the heat of his clava against Bluestreak’s hip. Jazz squirmed with need, made urgent noises in his throat, went weak and pliant when Bluestreak finally grabbed him.
Yes, see how pretty he was? How obedient? Such a good little pet, wasn’t he?
Bluestreak nuzzled him. “Thank you,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Jazz’s neck, near his ear. “That was wonderful.”
And then he rolled and tucked Jazz into the cradle of his body, steadfastly ignoring the rigid clava dripping onto their nest, and the sweet scent of Jazz’s slick between his thighs. He ignored the heat of Jazz’s body, the way his ready-scent rose from him in waves, the way he trembled against Bluestreak.
He ignored it all without a blink, as if not once tempted.
“You are made of stone,” Jazz declared, petulant.
Bluestreak chuckled and rubbed the bottom of his chin over Jazz’s crest. “Go to sleep, flitterling. You’ve five more days.”
Jazz pouted, but it didn’t sway his master at all.
