[FoF] Seven Days 07
Oct. 25th, 2018 06:13 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 Six
The next day, Jazz couldn’t leave their nest. He didn’t dare.
He was so wet, he left a puddle anywhere he sat. His clava would not restrain itself to his sheath. He couldn’t smile because of the need pounding through his veins. He couldn’t do anything but think about rut. The smell of it. The heat of it. The taste. The touch. The feel.
Jazz whimpered as his antrum throbbed, his clit-nub engorged and visible. He could smell himself. He pulled his hands into fists to keep from grabbing a pillow. The sharp sting grounded him in the present, and far from his daydreams.
His arousal would fade, and he’d manage to crawl out of the nest for a drink or a bite of fruit, or to sit listless on the balcony edge. But then he’d remember Bluestreak, or a particular scene, or the way pleasure was supposed to feel, and he’d be desperate for it all over again.
It was maddening. It was torture. It was the most brilliant punishment Bluestreak could have ever devised, and Jazz no longer thought of himself as clever for pushing his lover into it. No, he was quite the idiot in fact.
By the time Bluestreak came home, Jazz couldn’t manage anything more coherent than a sobbed plea. He was on his knees, talons kneading the reed-woven floor, head bowed in submission. His thoughts crackled back and forth among Bluestreak and lover and Master, and he couldn’t settle on a single identifier.
“Shhh,” Bluestreak soothed with lovely purrs. “I’ve got you, flitterling. You’ve done so well. I’m so proud of you.”
Jazz clung to him, breathing in his heat, his scent. He adored how big Bluestreak was, one of the larger baras in Kaon flock, so big he could wrap Jazz up easily.
“Can I… Can I…?” He could barely get the request out through how badly he shook.
“Lay back into the pillows now,” Bluestreak ordered, ignoring his request to guide him into their bed. “Come on, flitterling. Hands to the side.”
Jazz obeyed. He trembled to the tips of his feathers, his breathing coming in sharper gasps. He was so hot, so hard. He ached. Pre-fluid streamed from the tip. He shook from the effort of holding himself back.
Bluestreak hovered over him, his expression one of adoration and approval. “Open up,” he said. “Come on, pretty. Spread those thighs for me. Show me how hungry you are.”
Jazz whimpered. He pushed his legs apart, as far as he could manage, feeling cool air rush over him. It teased his seeping, scorching antrum and wisped over his bobbing clava.
He rocked his hips, desperate for stimulation, but there was none to be found.
Bluestreak’s eyes darkened. “Very hungry indeed,” he purred as he knelt between Jazz’s thighs, knees forcing him to stay wide. “You’ve been a good pet, I can tell. Haven’t you?”
Jazz’s claws twisted into the pillows, rending fabric with ease. “Master.”
“I know.” Bluestreak’s tongue swept over his lips. “Pet, look at me. Look into my eyes.”
He met his Master’s gaze and shivered. He felt captured. Taken.
“You want to come?”
More than anything. “Yes, sir,” Jazz gasped.
“Have you earned it?”
Trick question. Jazz had learned how to answer this by now. Because he was a good pet. He knew how to behave, even if he had made the remarkably stupid decision not to do so.
“If you think I did, sir.”
“Good answer.” Bluestreak smiled, so soft and sweet. He leaned over Jazz, though the only part of him that touched Jazz was his knees against Jazz’s thighs. “Yes, you have.”
Jazz whimpered. The pillow beneath his rump was sticky and wet. He had to be soaking everything. He hurt so much.
“So beautiful,” Bluestreak murmured, leaning close enough Jazz could feel the warmth of his exhalations. “My flitterling. So proud of you. Now I want you to do one more thing for me.”
Jazz licked his lips. “Anything.” His breath caught in his throat, his entire body shuddered, hanging on a precipice. He wasn’t above begging. The words danced on the tip of his glossa.
Forget pride. Throw in the trash. Pride didn’t matter anymore. Just this. Just his master. Just Bluestreak.
Blue eyes held his. “Come for me,” Bluestreak ordered. Firm. Unyielding. “Now.”
Jazz shattered.
His head tossed back, his body exploding with pleasure as his clava spurted and his antrum clenched and rippled. He thrashed beneath Bluestreak, barely managing to keep firm hold of the pillows, which turned to fluff beneath his talons.
He might have screamed or shrieked, he didn’t know. He was aware of sounds pouring from his throat, and they might not have been intelligible. Not with the searing ecstasy pouring through his veins, pounding through his core.
He’d never felt anything like this before. Never.
He climbed and climbed to new heights of blistering rapture, until he crashed back into his body, wrecked and shaken. He panted for breath, trembling so hard he rattled several feathers loose. Something was whimpering, and he realized it was him. He felt a warm brush against his forehead and opened his eyes, having not realized he closed them.
Bluestreak had kissed him.
“Damn, that was hot,” Bluestreak said, his eyes so bright and heated. “You are the sexiest harpy I’ve ever seen, Jazz. By Adaptus, I love you. Do you have any idea what you just looked like? All I wanna do is eat you right now, I swear to Adaptus.”
Oh. Right.
Blue always did get chatty when he was pleased.
Jazz hummed. “I did good?” he asked, words slurring.
His tongue didn’t want to work right, apparently. It kept lolling about inside his mouth. His entire body felt limp. He didn’t have the strength to so much as lift a finger.
“So good.” Bluestreak stole his lips for a deep and satisfying kiss, claiming him in one fell swoop.
He nuzzled Jazz’s face, finally lowering his body against Jazz’s, a heavy blanket of heat that drew a low moan out of Jazz.
“Can you take me, flitterling?” Bluestreak asked, his knee nudging against Jazz’s thoroughly soaked antrum.
He moaned and managed a wriggle, unable to lift his arms. His antrum gave a weak pulse, his clit-nub stirring back to life.
“Always.”
He would never not want his master.
Blinding pleasure rang through him again as Bluestreak slid into him, slow and savoring, the heat of him filling Jazz deep, deep inside. Another release rippled through his antrum in steadily building waves. He whimpered, panting air through clenched teeth, Bluestreak’s voice washing over and through his ears, full of promise and reassurance and praise.
Jazz floated in it. Distantly, he felt the pleasure of it all.
Bluestreak’s lips dotted gentle and loving over his forehead. The warmth off him cradled Jazz, and Bluestreak was love. Bluestreak was safety.
Bluestreak was home.
*
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.
The next day, Jazz couldn’t leave their nest. He didn’t dare.
He was so wet, he left a puddle anywhere he sat. His clava would not restrain itself to his sheath. He couldn’t smile because of the need pounding through his veins. He couldn’t do anything but think about rut. The smell of it. The heat of it. The taste. The touch. The feel.
Jazz whimpered as his antrum throbbed, his clit-nub engorged and visible. He could smell himself. He pulled his hands into fists to keep from grabbing a pillow. The sharp sting grounded him in the present, and far from his daydreams.
His arousal would fade, and he’d manage to crawl out of the nest for a drink or a bite of fruit, or to sit listless on the balcony edge. But then he’d remember Bluestreak, or a particular scene, or the way pleasure was supposed to feel, and he’d be desperate for it all over again.
It was maddening. It was torture. It was the most brilliant punishment Bluestreak could have ever devised, and Jazz no longer thought of himself as clever for pushing his lover into it. No, he was quite the idiot in fact.
By the time Bluestreak came home, Jazz couldn’t manage anything more coherent than a sobbed plea. He was on his knees, talons kneading the reed-woven floor, head bowed in submission. His thoughts crackled back and forth among Bluestreak and lover and Master, and he couldn’t settle on a single identifier.
“Shhh,” Bluestreak soothed with lovely purrs. “I’ve got you, flitterling. You’ve done so well. I’m so proud of you.”
Jazz clung to him, breathing in his heat, his scent. He adored how big Bluestreak was, one of the larger baras in Kaon flock, so big he could wrap Jazz up easily.
“Can I… Can I…?” He could barely get the request out through how badly he shook.
“Lay back into the pillows now,” Bluestreak ordered, ignoring his request to guide him into their bed. “Come on, flitterling. Hands to the side.”
Jazz obeyed. He trembled to the tips of his feathers, his breathing coming in sharper gasps. He was so hot, so hard. He ached. Pre-fluid streamed from the tip. He shook from the effort of holding himself back.
Bluestreak hovered over him, his expression one of adoration and approval. “Open up,” he said. “Come on, pretty. Spread those thighs for me. Show me how hungry you are.”
Jazz whimpered. He pushed his legs apart, as far as he could manage, feeling cool air rush over him. It teased his seeping, scorching antrum and wisped over his bobbing clava.
He rocked his hips, desperate for stimulation, but there was none to be found.
Bluestreak’s eyes darkened. “Very hungry indeed,” he purred as he knelt between Jazz’s thighs, knees forcing him to stay wide. “You’ve been a good pet, I can tell. Haven’t you?”
Jazz’s claws twisted into the pillows, rending fabric with ease. “Master.”
“I know.” Bluestreak’s tongue swept over his lips. “Pet, look at me. Look into my eyes.”
He met his Master’s gaze and shivered. He felt captured. Taken.
“You want to come?”
More than anything. “Yes, sir,” Jazz gasped.
“Have you earned it?”
Trick question. Jazz had learned how to answer this by now. Because he was a good pet. He knew how to behave, even if he had made the remarkably stupid decision not to do so.
“If you think I did, sir.”
“Good answer.” Bluestreak smiled, so soft and sweet. He leaned over Jazz, though the only part of him that touched Jazz was his knees against Jazz’s thighs. “Yes, you have.”
Jazz whimpered. The pillow beneath his rump was sticky and wet. He had to be soaking everything. He hurt so much.
“So beautiful,” Bluestreak murmured, leaning close enough Jazz could feel the warmth of his exhalations. “My flitterling. So proud of you. Now I want you to do one more thing for me.”
Jazz licked his lips. “Anything.” His breath caught in his throat, his entire body shuddered, hanging on a precipice. He wasn’t above begging. The words danced on the tip of his glossa.
Forget pride. Throw in the trash. Pride didn’t matter anymore. Just this. Just his master. Just Bluestreak.
Blue eyes held his. “Come for me,” Bluestreak ordered. Firm. Unyielding. “Now.”
Jazz shattered.
His head tossed back, his body exploding with pleasure as his clava spurted and his antrum clenched and rippled. He thrashed beneath Bluestreak, barely managing to keep firm hold of the pillows, which turned to fluff beneath his talons.
He might have screamed or shrieked, he didn’t know. He was aware of sounds pouring from his throat, and they might not have been intelligible. Not with the searing ecstasy pouring through his veins, pounding through his core.
He’d never felt anything like this before. Never.
He climbed and climbed to new heights of blistering rapture, until he crashed back into his body, wrecked and shaken. He panted for breath, trembling so hard he rattled several feathers loose. Something was whimpering, and he realized it was him. He felt a warm brush against his forehead and opened his eyes, having not realized he closed them.
Bluestreak had kissed him.
“Damn, that was hot,” Bluestreak said, his eyes so bright and heated. “You are the sexiest harpy I’ve ever seen, Jazz. By Adaptus, I love you. Do you have any idea what you just looked like? All I wanna do is eat you right now, I swear to Adaptus.”
Oh. Right.
Blue always did get chatty when he was pleased.
Jazz hummed. “I did good?” he asked, words slurring.
His tongue didn’t want to work right, apparently. It kept lolling about inside his mouth. His entire body felt limp. He didn’t have the strength to so much as lift a finger.
“So good.” Bluestreak stole his lips for a deep and satisfying kiss, claiming him in one fell swoop.
He nuzzled Jazz’s face, finally lowering his body against Jazz’s, a heavy blanket of heat that drew a low moan out of Jazz.
“Can you take me, flitterling?” Bluestreak asked, his knee nudging against Jazz’s thoroughly soaked antrum.
He moaned and managed a wriggle, unable to lift his arms. His antrum gave a weak pulse, his clit-nub stirring back to life.
“Always.”
He would never not want his master.
Blinding pleasure rang through him again as Bluestreak slid into him, slow and savoring, the heat of him filling Jazz deep, deep inside. Another release rippled through his antrum in steadily building waves. He whimpered, panting air through clenched teeth, Bluestreak’s voice washing over and through his ears, full of promise and reassurance and praise.
Jazz floated in it. Distantly, he felt the pleasure of it all.
Bluestreak’s lips dotted gentle and loving over his forehead. The warmth off him cradled Jazz, and Bluestreak was love. Bluestreak was safety.
Bluestreak was home.
